


Only The Flowers That Bloom At Night

by nereidee (aurasama)



Category: Amnesia: The Dark Descent
Genre: Blood and Gore, First Time, Hemophobia, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Torture, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-03-23 10:20:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 29,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13785435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aurasama/pseuds/nereidee
Summary: The mental strain of the rituals, as well as his growing anxiety and the resulting sleep deprivation, are pushing Daniel to his limits. After a particularly gruesome ritual he finally breaks down and is forced to admit to the baron that he has started seeing himself in the place of his victims. Alexander, fearing what his guest might do to himself, steps in to save Daniel from himself - and to show him that there are many beautiful things hiding in the dark, too.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> “I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul.”  
> \- Pablo Neruda

_Laudanum,_ he thought frantically, searching through his possessions. _I know I had another bottle of laudanum here, somewhere._ His search finally yielded results and he extracted a small bottle from the bag with trembling hands.  
  
Daniel had pried open the glass bottle and already brought it up to his lips when he realised he'd not be able to force down a single drop. His throat felt paper-dry, a faint taste of iron on his tongue. The tremours that had started on the way back up felt worse than ever and he hastily stoppered the bottle and put it back down on the desk, his hands shaking so badly that it nearly slipped from his fingers.  
  
It had been another sleepless night; he didn't know how he'd forced himself to get through his morning routines and the ritual in this state. He'd hoped that perhaps he could steal a few hours of rest during the day, before he was fetched for dinner, daylight hopefully keeping his nightmares at bay… He shook his head, but the images wouldn't get out of his mind. _The ritual._ The word seemed to echo in his head. His stomach clenched painfully, sending the taste of bile rising into his mouth. Daniel sat down on the bed, willing himself not to throw up.

This one had been the worst so far. He had none of Alexander's finesse in handling the sacrifices; the knife in his hand had felt as alien and intrusive as it had on the first time, and it had made the procedure messier than necessary. Alexander assured him that he'd grow more confident in time, honing his skill, but Daniel wasn't sure he'd stay sane long enough to see that happen. He wasn't sure he wanted to, either; today, his inexperienced hand had slipped and cut into an artery. The sight had nearly floored him on the spot; surely, there was only a certain amount of blood the average person was expected to see during his lifetime, and Daniel was rapidly reaching that limit. No matter how thoroughly he'd washed afterwards he swore he could still feel it all over his hands and arms – warm, slick blood seeping through the fabric of his shirt all the way to his elbows.  
  
He retched, bile burning in his throat again. He'd eaten less and less each day, and what little he'd forced down at breakfast was violently fighting its way back up.  
  
_No, no, keep it down,_ Daniel thought desperately, trying to ignore the roiling of his stomach. _The laudanum… just take some and lay down, and…  
  
_ But he hadn't the time to finish the thought before the feeling in his stomach signalled that it was too late. He barely managed to get on the floor and fish out the chamber pot under his bed before he retched again, this time followed by the sickening sound of vomit splattering against porcelain. He was shaking all over, hands clutching the chamber pot so prevent himself from dropping it. The putrid taste burned in his mouth and nostrils, rousing another wave of nausea. Daniel heaved a breath, retching two times, three times, until the horrible clenching feeling in his bowels settled, leaving behind only the sound of his laboured breathing.

There was a sticky feeling in his mouth, now, and he saw for one wild moment how black, thick blood flooded from his mouth, mixed in with stomach acids and half-digested food. When he forced open his eyes no such sight met him, however, and he prised his stiff fingers from around the chamber pot and set in back on the floor, feeling thoroughly disgusted with himself.

* * *

  
Daniel inhaled slowly, letting the fumes of his evening tea revive his senses. He thought he smelled something flowery, delicate and soft. It left a sweeter aftertaste in his mouth than the black tea he usually consumed.  
  
“How is the tea, Daniel?” asked Alexander's voice, and the brunette opened his eyes, meeting his host's questioning look.  
  
“Quite unlike any I've had before. I don't know how to put it into words… it's a very delicate flavour. Summery, if I may describe it thus.” Daniel instinctively sniffed it once more, drawing a smile from the baron.  
  
“I am glad it's to your liking,” he replied. “It is not mere black tea, as a matter of fact. There are dried petals and leaves of certain edible flowers in the infusion.”  
  
“Ah,” Daniel breathed. “I take it you grow the flowers yourself?”  
  
From the pleased twinkle in the baron's eye he knew he'd struck bullseye.  
  
“You have learned to know me too well, Daniel.”  
  
The Englishman took another sip of his tea, its heat warming him up inside better than anything else. This parlour in Alexander's study was one of his favourite places in Brennenburg – well-lit, warm and inviting, and most of its available surfaces covered in books. For a while he said nothing more, simply wishing to savour the moment. A moment's rest felt rewarding when it had taken him so long to calm down earlier… He felt heat rising to his face just thinking about it. To think he'd just taken off and vanished after the ritual, without so much as an apology to Alexander for his blunder.  
  
He cleared his throat. As embarrassing as it was, he couldn't help feeling it was for the best to settle the matter before he offended his host further. “Alexander?”  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“I am sorry for my behaviour earlier. After all your help and guidance, the blood wards… I made such a mess, I couldn't even...” The words caught in his throat, and he could feel the tremours returning. Alexander was staring at him, a politely puzzled expression on his face. Hastily, Daniel placed his cup back on the saucer. “I am a terrible apprentice, Alexander. I wanted to apologise—“  
  
The baron held up his hand and Daniel fell silent, feeling his face redden even more.  
  
“There is nothing to apologise for, Daniel. It's not unexpected that you should make mistakes during the rituals, as a novice. I understand that you are under great pressure,” the elder said. His tone was kindly, but Daniel flinched at the word 'mistakes' all the same.  
  
“You are very kind, Alexander—“  
  
“While we are on the subject, you look terrible,” the baron cut across him. “You were merely playing with your dinner earlier. Is something the matter?”  
  
Daniel opened his mouth, then closed it again. He thought about the mountain of anxiety that he seemed to carry with him everywhere these days; about the sleepless nights when laudanum wasn't enough to knock him out, about the guilt and hopelessness that had settled into his bones, about the fear that the rituals weren't enough, and he couldn't figure out where to even begin describing something that went so utterly beyond words. No matter how he thought about it, it was just too much. He swallowed, forcing himself to smile.  
  
“I appreciate your concern, Alexander, but there is no need to worry. My stomach doesn't seem to take too kindly to my use of laudanum,” the Englishman heard himself lie.  
  
“You should watch your consumption. It's very strong, after all, laudanum.”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
He drank more of his tea, ignoring the burning feeling gathering at the pit of stomach. There would be another ritual tomorrow, he knew. He tried not to think about it too much – every time he did, his insides clenched into a tight knot. Perhaps he ought to have told Alexander this; he might have been able to provide him with some sort of tonic to ease the symptoms. But the idea of telling him about what truly ailed him felt more terrible than suffering in silence, after all the trouble the baron went through for his sake…

_Don't be so ungrateful, Daniel,_ he told himself sternly. _He does so much to save your life and all you can do is complain about a moment's discomfort.  
  
_ “I have been meaning to show you something,” Alexander said, setting down his now empty tea cup. “Are you finished with your tea?”  
  
“Just about.”  
  
Daniel downed the last drops of his tea, following the elder's example and discarding his cup and saucer on the table. Alexander stood up, beckoning to him.  
  
“Follow me, then.”  
  
Their journey didn't take them far. Alexander led him down the corridor and into what appeared to be an office of sorts. A quick glance around the room told him this must be where the baron did some of his messier work – there were sketches detailing human and animal anatomy alike on the walls, and what appeared to be a large, stuffed canine standing on a table in a far corner. Alexander cast him an apologetic look, correctly interpreting the unease on his face.  
  
“Forgive me for not warning you,” he told him. “I have told you previously that one of my interests lies in understanding the workings of the human body, haven't I?”  
  
“You have,” Daniel answered, eyes on a large sketch of the human head. The sight made him slightly queasy, but he couldn't help admiring the baron's attention to details despite the subject matter. There were notations everywhere, all made with the same minuscule writing, labelling parts that Daniel had never heard of before, nor ever wanted to again.  
  
“Right over here,” the baron said, opening another door at the back of the room. It was much more pleasant in Daniel's opinion – a large portrait of Alexander hung at the back of the room, and there were piles of books on the floor. “Watch your step, I have not cleaned in here for some time.”  
  
“That's quite all right. Reminds me of my old professor's office in London.”  
  
Alexander extracted a book from a pile and laid it open on the desk. He leafed through it until he found what he was looking for. Daniel's heart sunk; Alexander was pointing at another, even more detailed anatomical chart.  
  
“Come here, Daniel. I'll show you what to do next time.”

* * *

  
Three hours past midnight, and Daniel's eyes were still wide open, staring up at the roof of his four-poster. In the distance, the low rumble of thunder echoed over the valleys that surrounded Brennenburg, a sure sign that another late summer storm was on its way. Daniel shivered, pulling the covers all the way up to his chin. Tick-tock, tick-tock. The grandfather clock in his room had never sounded louder in his ears, and when it chimed half past three in the morning, the first raindrops started falling and beating against his windows.  
  
Daniel winced involuntarily, the noise deafening in his ears.  
  
A half-empty bottle on his bedside table was the epitome of his promise to Alexander; he'd taken a smaller dose of laudanum this time, not that it had done much about his stomach ache. He hadn't dared to eat more than a few biscuits with his evening tea and his stomach now complained its emptiness, but he found it a welcome change.  
  
He both awaited and feared the approaching dawn. Awaited, because it would give him a reason to get up and stop pretending that he was going to get any manner of rest at all; feared, because dawn would mean another ritual, another attempt at keeping the Shadow at an arm's length. His insides squirmed unpleasantly at the thought, but no matter how he tried to distract himself, there was no way to drive it out of his mind. He hadn't wanted to risk sleep, not now that it wasn't only the Guardian that plagued his dreams, but also the rituals.  
  
Daniel started and sat up, swearing loudly as the grandfather clock tolled four, interrupting his rumination.  
  
“For the love of God,” he groaned, slumping back on the bed. His heart was racing as badly as if someone had jumped out of his wardrobe and yelled 'boo'. “I am as jumpy as a small child...”  
  
He placed a hand on his belly, shuddering. The anatomical diagrams that Alexander had shown him might have fascinated the baron, but he had felt much more comfortable without such intricate knowledge of what his insides looked like. He had nodded and smiled with interest, not wanting to admit he'd been more horrified than curious; he didn't want Alexander to think he was losing his nerve.  
  
“And over such a silly thing, too,” he muttered. He couldn't close his eyes – every time he'd tried, a most horrifying image seemed to float before his eyes. He could feel himself shaking as he recalled one of the victims from two days ago, a man whose belly he'd cut open according to Alexander's instructions. _The man had been a murderer,_ he reminded himself sternly, _a murderer and a rapist._ The thought brought him no reassurance whatsoever. Seeing the man's guts exposed, his organs clearly visible and gleaming wet with blood like that… Daniel bit his lip, forcing himself not to start retching again. What an ungodly sight it had been; surely, it was against nature itself to see another human being so exposed, so violated.

The drawings Alexander had shown him had only made it worse. The baron had explained to him how many of the human organs could be removed and taken out without immediately killing the victim, if only he paced himself and handled the knife with great care. _A most effective means of torture,_ the baron had said, _if the victim has not proved himself susceptible to the amnesia mixture and you are aiming for maximal results with less effort than anything else that would require more force._ The idea was revolting, and as though to answer his thoughts, his stomach sent out a wave of nausea. He instinctively ran his hands across his belly and sides, as though to reassure himself that his body was whole and unharmed still.  
  
For the longest of times he lay still, staring unseeing at the window. Raindrops ran down the panes in rivulets and occasionally, a flash of lighting illuminated the clouded skies, followed by a low, rumbling sound that seemed to reverberate within the very stone of the castle itself. Daniel shivered again. Even when he did not sleep, the cries of the Guardian did not leave him alone.  
  
Daniel let out a forlorn sigh and rolled over onto his side, turning his back on the storm raging outside.

* * *

  
Wet stone glistened in quivering candlelight, growing steadily darker as it soaked up the blood draining from the prisoner chackled to the table. Daniel could feel his hands shaking again and tightened his hold on the knife to keep it steady, gripping it so tight that his knuckles turned white.  
  
“Slowly, Daniel. No need to rush.”  
  
His answering nod came mechanically, without truly listening. He was so tired; his head felt as though it had been filled with lead. The woman strapped to the table had cried herself hoarse and was barely strirring anymore – there wasn't much longer to go for her, Daniel knew, and her chest rose and fell rapidly in the face of approaching death.  
  
“You're nearly there, Daniel,” Alexander's voice said. It echoed strangely in Daniel's ears, as though his voice was coming from the other end of a long, narrow tunnel. “Cut once more and take it out.”  
  
The blade sunk into the dark mess of the woman's opened midriff, and Daniel felt the victim's sobs against his hand. He knew she must be crying hysterically – he could see her mouth open and close, flecks of spit flying out in a most primal display of pain – but none of it seemed to register in his brain, as though a part of him were dying as rapidly as she was. He saw his free hand reach out and disappear momentarily into the woman's guts, searching as he'd been instructed, and when he pulled his hand out, it was clutching the woman's liver. He lifted it up, examining in the faint light of the ritual chamber.  
  
Alexander said something again, but Daniel didn't hear him. He stared, transfixed, at the blood-slicked organ, and his hands trembled. Blood was still trickling out of the veins he'd severed to remove the thing, running down in small streams down his raised arm. The thing was warm against his skin; he almost thought he could still feel it pulsing in his hand.  
  
His eyes dropped to the knife, still clutched tight in his other hand. A ringing seemed to have filled his ears, drowning out whatever the baron was saying to him.  
  
_Take it out, Daniel,_ a voice in his head said, repeating Alexander's words.  
  
Something throbbed sickeningly in his gut and he shivered, nausea washing over him again. He had a sudden, inexplicable impulse to sink the blade into his belly and yank out his own liver to join the woman's.  
  
_Take it out.  
  
_ Something burned in his throat, fighting to get out.  
  
_Take it out!  
  
_ He flung both the knife and the organ away. He was vaguely aware that someone was yelling; a split-second later he realised it was him. Alexander was staring at him, looking extremely alarmed, but before he could do more than open his mouth to speak Daniel was already out the door and running down the corridor.  
  
He couldn't tell where he'd run off to, or when he'd stopped running. Next thing he knew, he was standing hunched over in a corner and vomiting violently, his stomach aching so severely that he was afraid it was going to explode. He heaved, sick splattering over his shoes and the floor, and little by little the pain ebbed away. The only thing he could hear was his own breathing and, legs so weak that they might as well have been made of water, he dragged himself forwards a few feet before slumping down on the floor.  
  
His breathing just wouldn't calm down and Daniel found himself growing light-headed. He stared down at his hands, stained copiously with blood, and his fingers closed reflexively as though he were holding an invisible blade. The impulse to cut open his flesh rose again without warning or explanation.  
  
_Take it out!  
  
_ “S-stop it,” Daniel gasped between intakes of air, clapping his hands over his ears. He tried to draw breath but there was no controlling it now – his chest rose and fell abnormally fast, as though he were running for his life. He just wanted it to stop, wanted it gone, out, at whatever price, out, out, out of his body before it drove him mad…  
  
He hadn't heard the approaching footsteps, but suddenly someone knelt beside him, laying a hand on his shoulder. He started, but all that came out of his mouth was a strangled whimper.  
  
“It's alright, Daniel,” Alexander said, grasping his shoulder. Daniel stared at him with wild eyes, shaking from head to toe. “It's just me.”  
  
The brunette tried to answer, but his breathing had grown so uncontrolled that he felt like he wasn't receiving any air at all. Alexander wrapped his arm around his shoulders instead, speaking very slowly.  
  
“You are alright, Daniel. Listen to me. You'll come to no harm, do you understand?”  
  
He clutched at his throat, certain that he was suffocating, he couldn't breathe, he couldn't breathe, he had to breathe…  
  
“Listen to me. No, listen!” Alexander said with a ringing voice, cutting across his wheezing breath. “Lean against me, you cannot breathe properly hunched over like that. Yes, that's better. Now do as I tell you – inhale – yes, just like that. Exhale – inhale again – and exhale...”  
  
It went on forever. All Daniel's brain registered were the baron's words and he followed the instructions with all the desperation of a drowning man holding on to a piece of driftwood. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale – slowly, bit by bit, his breathing eased back to normal. He was only vaguely aware of Alexander rubbing his back in the manner of comforting a crying child.  
  
“That's a little better,” the baron said finally, standing up. “Let's get you back to your room. I'll have the servants arrange a bath for you.”  
  
“There's no need… I'll manage,” Daniel rasped as the elder made to pull him up to his feet.  
  
“You are in no condition to make the journey yourself, Daniel.” Alexander's fingers closed around his upper arm like a vice and, completely ignoring his sputtering, pulled him up. To the younger man's surprise, the baron wasted no time wrapping his arm around his waist.  
  
“No, really, you shouldn't—“  
  
“You're shaking all over, Daniel. Put your arm around my shoulders.”  
  
“I can walk myself—“  
  
“ _Now,_ Daniel.”  
  
Daniel opened his mouth, clearly about to argue further, but seeing the thunderous expression on the elder's face made him change his mind. Very gingerly, looking decidedly away from him, Daniel wrapped his arm around the baron's shoulders, letting him support his weight.  
  
“Good. Now, if you'll follow my lead...”  
  
If only he could have died of shame.

* * *

  
The rain showed no sign of stopping. It had continued its dull pounding against the windows and walls throughout the day; one look out the window showed that the puddles on the inner yard had turned into lakes. Daniel couldn't stop shivering – where the bath water had been so hot that it had burned to slip into the tub, his room felt icy, despite a fire roaring in the fireplace.  
  
_Tick-tock, tick-tock._ The clock chimed seven times.  
  
Perhaps he should have dressed up. Or at least dried his hair. Water was still dripping from his hair and onto his unbuttoned shirt, making the cold so much worse, but he couldn't bring himself to move. He'd put on the first shirt and pair of pants he'd found before slumping on the floor, leaning against the bed, and hadn't moved since.  
  
Undressing had been nightmarish enough already; his skin crawled at the sight of his own naked body after what had happened in the ritual chamber. He'd climbed in the tub hastily, keeping his eyes firmly closed as he sat in the scalding water until it had turned so cold that he could no longer justify staying there. Washing off the blood had been a relief, but he hadn't been able to stop scrubbing himself even after there hadn't been a single fleck left. He'd scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed until his skin was red, raw and sore to the touch, yet he felt as dirty as though he hadn't washed at all.  
  
There was a knock on the door, but he didn't look up. Another knock, followed by his name being called. His eyes remained firmly on the carpet.  
  
“Daniel? Are you decent?”  
  
_Please don't come in,_ he thought – in vain, as he heard the door to the drawing room open a few seconds later.  
  
“Daniel?” Alexander's voice called again. When he didn't answer the baron opened the door, stepped in and stopped dead on his tracks upon finding the younger man on the floor. “Why aren't you dressed? You'll catch your death like that.”  
  
Daniel shrugged, still not looking at him.  
  
“Did you bathe? Are you feeling any better?” Alexander let out a deep sigh when there was no reaction from him. He stepped closer, dropping to his knees next to the Englishman. “Let's get some warm clothes on you. Come on, up you get.”  
  
Daniel was barely aware what was happening around him. He sat mutely on the bed as the baron persuaded him into more appropriate clothing, fetching slippers for his icy feet and a dry towel for his hair. A part of him wanted to refuse his help but his mouth wouldn't function, his entire body seemingly petrified into idleness, and with another long-suffering sigh Alexander started towel-drying his hair when he didn't make an attempt to do it on his own.  
  
It was an odd feeling, Daniel decided, a feeling that reminded him of all the times he'd done something similar to help Hazel when she'd grown too weak to care for herself. He couldn't deny that it felt rather comfortable – warmth was slowly returning to his limbs, driving off the sluggishness that had taken over him. He might have even enjoyed it if it hadn't been so thoroughly humiliating to have his host – a nobleman, no less – caring for him. Finally, Alexander pronounced himself satisfied and took off the towel, folding it on the bedside table.  
  
“Thank you,” Daniel mumbled. The baron had stood up again. Daniel watched him walk over to the wardrobe, open the door and, to his puzzlement, pull out a dressing gown.  
  
“Put this on and we'll have some tea.”  
  
“I don't think—“  
  
“I insist.”  
  
Alarmed by the baron's tone of voice, Daniel complied. He dressed as quickly as his frozen fingers allowed and followed Alexander out of the guest residence.  
  
It was undeniably cozy, sitting indoors with a fire blazing in the fireplace while the storm still raged outside. The parlour Alexander had lead him to was one he'd never visited before, a windowless room well away from the back hall, and Daniel found himself starting to relax. In a place like this he could almost forget about what lay underground; if he didn't think about it, he could almost reassure himself that there was nothing but rock and soil beneath his feet.  
  
For a while the only sounds were the crackling of fire and the tinkling of spoons against porcelain. As soon as he'd drained his first cup Alexander took the teapot and poured him another one, without waiting for him to ask. The brunette managed to give him a smile of thanks, the muscles on his face feeling stiff from disuse.  
  
“Thank you,” he said. The baron added a sugar cube and a dash of milk before handing the cup back to him, and Daniel wondered quietly how on earth the elder had remembered how he liked his tea.  
  
“Are you going to tell me what happened today during the ritual?”  
  
Daniel swallowed. It felt as though he had something stuck in his throat all of a sudden. Alexander was looking at him imploringly, his forehead creased with worry. Finally, the brunette nodded.  
  
“I don't quite understand it myself,” he began slowly. “Recently, I have… I have been dreaming of the rituals. Reliving them in my sleep, I suppose you could say.”  
  
“Did it happen last night?”  
  
He laughed humourlessly, shaking his head. “I did not sleep last night. I was too afraid to close my eyes, fearing it would be another night of nothing but horrid nightmares.” He shuddered and forced himself to take another sip of the tea. “I don't have to be asleep to see them any more, though… The prisoners we've tortured, I mean. Bleeding, flayed – cut open. I don't even have to be asleep any more to see them; I can't shake them from my mind.”  
  
“And that has been keeping you awake at night?”  
  
“Not just that. Alexander, I… I can feel it in my body, the torture.” He swallowed again, a sickening feeling at his stomach again. “I think I am losing my mind. Today, that woman… when I was cutting her, Alexander, it felt as though what I did to her was happening to myself. And I wanted to… I nearly plunged the knife into my stomach – I've never felt such a strong urge to do something, to hurt myself, as if someone else were in control of my body. I only barely stopped myself, and then… I fled.”  
  
His shoulders had began shaking and, feeling his eyes prickling with something hot, he covered his face with the palm of his hand. There was nothing he could do to stop the tears from coming, though.  
  
“You wanted to stab yourself?” Alexander said incredulously.  
  
He nodded again. “You must think me insane.”  
  
“Has this happened before? Do you get these… urges every time?”  
  
“No,” he said, voice breaking. It felt a struggle to keep talking; every word seemed to demand a great effort from him. “But if I think of the victim's pain, it's as if it becomes mine, somehow. Earlier, my stomach hurt and I thought… I mean, it doesn't make sense, does it? It's just not possible – but it felt like it was _me_ being stabbed, and I tasted blood and—“  
  
He was breathing hard again – too hard. He tried to keep talking but all that came out was a sort of whimper. Alexander reached out, putting a hand on his shoulder.  
  
“That's enough, Daniel. You don't need to tell me more.”  
  
The Englishman let his hand fall on his lap, face tear-stricken. The gaze he fixed at the older man was miserable.  
  
“I'm sorry,” he said, voice raspy.  
  
“There is no need to apologise.”  
  
Daniel wrapped his arms around his torso, shaking his head violently. “You are trying to save my life and all I can do to show my appreciation is to shrink away from it, like some frail maiden. You must think so little of me.”  
  
Alexander's hand didn't withdraw from his shoulder, giving it a small squeeze instead. “Quite the opposite, Daniel,” he replied quietly. “Thank you for telling me.”  
  
Daniel wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his dressing gown, decidedly looking away from the elder. He drew back his hand finally, leaving the younger man feeling considerably colder than before; he hadn't even noticed how warm Alexander's touch was, radiating heat so easily even through the thick fabric of his gown. He shivered suddenly, and the elder immediately pushed the teacup towards him.  
  
“Drink your tea if you're cold.”  
  
Daniel nodded, feeling even more humiliated than before, and, to his horror, felt colour rising to his face. Why did the baron have to have such sharp eyes?  
  
They drank the rest of their tea in silence, but Daniel could often feel the baron's eyes on him when he wasn't looking his way, lingering on him just a little too long – longer than what he was comfortable with, at any rate. He tried to suppress the shakiness of his hands the best he could, so as to not give Alexander more reasons for concern, but he knew he wasn't making a very good job of it.  
  
“Will you be able to sleep tonight?” the elder finally said, once they had emptied the teapot.  
  
Daniel looked up, forcing himself to meet his gaze, and shuddered involuntarily. In the light of the dying fire Alexander's eyes had an odd, smouldering quality to them, and he remembered the insults the prisoners had thrown at the pair of them upon his first visit to the dungeons. _Demon. Devil's spawn._ But instead of feeling alarmed, he found himself strangely breathless.  
  
“I, um, I still have some laudanum left. I'll take some of that – I didn't take my usual dosage yesterday, perhaps that's what kept me awake,” he managed, breaking the eye contact.  
  
“I see. If you find yourself unable to sleep, come and wake me.”  
  
“Of course,” he heard himself lie. He got to his feet shakily, quite ready to put some distance between himself and Alexander. He'd said too much already, way more than what he was comfortable with. “Goodnight, then. Thank you for the tea.”  
  
Alexander looked at him pensively, as though knowing precisely what he was thinking of. When he spoke, his voice was colourless.  
  
“Goodnight, Daniel.”


	2. Chapter 2

The pain was unbearable; it felt like his insides were on fire, like someone had thrust a hot poker right into his guts. He tried to struggle, but his arms wouldn't cooperate. He felt heavy, so, so heavy, leaden weight pressing down on him and pushing all air out of his lungs so that he had no strength, no voice to protest. The pain mounted, white hot and more terrible than before, and he felt the blade moving inside of him, to and fro, up and down in sawing motion, until he was sure he'd be cleaved in half; surely it couldn't go on any longer, surely he must be dying, surely, surely… The mantra went on in his head, unfulfilled, unanswered.  
  
He tried to open his eyes, to see the face of his killer, but no shape materialiased from the darkness. Was he blindfolded, or had his eyes been punctured? At the thought a pain, different from the rest, seared within his skull and he cried out as loudly as he could, and something shifted in the darkness. He could feel his lungs burning from the lack of air but still he continued screaming, unable to stop, something forcing the sound out of his tormented body. And then, around him, a chorus of answering screams rose, a terrible, many-voiced thing that had no face or appearance, and his blood ran cold at it.  
  
_The Shadow.  
  
_ And then something silvery flashed in the dark, above him, and sunk into his eye socket. He screamed ever louder, the pain overpowering his senses, until his throat was sore. Yet the sound didn't die out and, out of the darkness, a face appeared just inches from his. Daniel found his own face staring back at him, like a reflection, lips pulled back into a scream of pain that still went on and on…  
  
“Daniel!”  
  
He jolted as though hit and sat up, breathing erratically. The screams had died down, and his throat was aching in a way that told him that he must have been screaming out loud. Instinctively, he ran his hands across his midriff, frantically feeling for the place where the knife had gone in, but he found nothing. He lifted a shaking hand to his face, finding it unbloodied and whole. Fingers closed around his wrist as he made to dig his fingers into his eye and pulled his hand back. He yelled again, or tried to; all that came out was a hoarse whine.  
  
“Calm down! It's just me, Daniel.”  
  
The hand let go of him and Daniel looked around wildly. Alexander was standing on his bedside, looking very pale.  
  
“A-alexander?”  
  
“Are you alright? I heard you screaming.”  
  
“I… I...”  
  
He was suddenly very aware of the night shirt clinging to his skin; he was drenched in sweat, and the cool air was making him shiver. Alexander sat down on the edge of the bed, eyeing him hesitantly.  
  
“What happened?” Daniel asked in a whisper. “I thought I saw someone, bending over me...”  
  
“You must have been dreaming. You were writhing and yelling for a long time – I tried to rouse you, but you didn't seem to hear me.”  
  
“It was a dream?” He let out a shuddering sigh, collapsing against the headboard. He felt overwhelmingly tired all of a sudden. “I suppose that makes sense. It doesn't hurt any more, at least.”  
  
“Were you in pain?”  
  
He met Alexander's eyes and nodded. “I… I thought I felt something sharp – like I was being stabbed, over and over again. The pain felt so real...”  
  
The baron shifted closer. “Where did it hurt?”  
  
Daniel placed a hand over his abdomen. “Here, mostly. Like something was trying to rip me apart.” He frowned, pressing the spot a few times. “It still twinges a bit.”  
  
“Stop poking at it,” the elder snapped, pushing his hand away. He stood up suddenly, casting a quick glance at Daniel before making for the door. “I'll fetch something. Wait here.”  
  
Daniel pulled the covers up, wrapping himself in the quilt as though it could act as a barrier between himself and a potential attacker. There was a sinking feeling in his gut as he listened to the baron's retreating footsteps.  
  
_He must be furious with me,_ he thought miserably. _I must have woken the entire castle with my screaming.  
  
_ He half-expected Alexander not to return at all, or to show up and tell him to pack his things and get out before he disturbed him further. Therefore, when he heard the door to the drawing room open again and Alexander walk in, he burrowed even further beneath the quilt, trying to appear as small as possible.  
  
The baron stepped in, closing the bedroom door after himself. In his hands was a flask, not unlike the ones where he stored the Damascus rose tonic they used on the prisoners, but the liquid inside it was a different colour entirely.  
  
“What is that?” Daniel asked in a small voice. The baron's expression was still thunderous, and a part of him feared the man was planning to poison him just to pay back for all his troubles.  
  
Alexander took in the sight of him, cowering on the bed and wrapped in a quilt like a child caught in wrongdoing, and his expression softened. He put the flask down on the desk and started rummaging for something in the drawers.  
  
“It's just a potion – something for your stomach.”  
  
“Oh,” Daniel said, suddenly feeling very stupid indeed. “I see.”  
  
The baron took out flint and tinder from one of the drawers and, walking over to the fireplace, got down on his knees. He cast a few more dry logs over the coals and after a few moments of work managed to get a new fire going, brightening up the room considerably.  
  
“That's better,” Alexander muttered, apparently to himself. He got up again, grabbing the flask from the desk and sitting back down on the bed. Daniel tried not to look too apprehensive, but couldn't entirely stop himself from leaning away from the elder. It was strange to have him this close, in his bedroom when neither of them were decently dressed, no less. Surely it wasn't appropriate that the host should have to personally check up on his guest in the dead of the night instead of sending a servant to investigate? But he couldn't help feeling relieved that it was Alexander who had come to his aid; it was oddly flattering, if he was perfectly honest with himself. The sight of his familiar form on his bedside made him feel safe, and no amount of embarrassment he felt about his present state of undress could take that away.  
  
Alexander unstoppered the flask, handing it out to him. “Take a mouthful. It'll soothe an upset stomach – particularly when you are still taking laudanum.”  
  
Daniel sniffed the contents of the flask; the liquid was a murky brown colour, but the smell was sweet and somehow familiar…  
  
“Haven't I had this before?” he asked, forehead wrinkling. “I swear I recognise the smell...”  
  
“It has some of the same components as that tea we had the other night,” the baron said with a nod.  
  
“Oh. That explains it.”  
  
He took a tentative sip. It wasn't as bad as he'd expected – it had some of the sweetness of the tea, but was otherwise quite mild. Relieved, he took a few gulps before handing the flask back to the baron.  
  
“Is that another one of your own creations?” he asked.  
  
Alexander nodded again. “I have shown you around the garden, have I not?”  
  
“I don't think so. I did see a greenhouse on the grounds upon my arrival, but we haven't left the castle since then.”  
  
“My apologies,” the baron said. “I must take you there if you'd like to see it – tomorrow evening, perhaps. There are several medicinal plants that I'm growing myself, many of which are quite beautiful.”  
  
“Tomorrow _evening_?” Daniel asked, frowning. “Surely, a tour in the garden is more enjoyable during daytime.”  
  
Alexander smiled. “Ah, but there are species that are at their finest past sundown.” He indicated the flask, giving it a light tap. “The flowers used for this tonic, for instance – flowers of the oenothera genus, or the evening primrose as you English speakers call it.”  
  
“Evening primrose?”  
  
The baron's smile widened. “It's a night bloomer. Its flowers open only after sundown.”  
  
“I did not know that.”  
  
He placed a hand on his stomach – whatever there was in the tonic, it seemed to get the job done. His belly no longer ached and the sour, burning feeling at his throat and beneath his ribs had vanished entirely.  
  
“How are you feeling now?” Alexander asked, as though reading his mind.  
  
“Better. I'm sorry for disturbing you in the middle of the night like this...”  
  
“You needn't apologise constantly, Daniel. It was I who invited you to Brennenburg to offer my help in the first place, and I intent to do just that,” the baron said firmly. He was staring at the younger man so intensely that it was almost uncomfortable to hold the eye contact. “It is the host's responsibility to ensure the wellbeing of his guests, and I take pride in that responsibility when it befalls me.”  
  
Daniel couldn't think of any response to that, so he merely nodded. His mouth felt oddly dry all of a sudden, and he was quite relieved when Alexander finally looked away. He shifted, looking for a comfortable position. Now that the fire was burning again it was rapidly growing warmer and warmer in the room, and he felt no need to wrap himself so tightly in the quilt any more.  
  
Suddenly, the grandfather clock tolled and Daniel jumped. Alexander turned around to look at the clock.  
  
“Two in the morning,” he mused. “You should try to get some more sleep.”  
  
“Perhaps,” Daniel said hesitantly. He made no effort to lay down; if there was one thing he did not want to do, it was sleep and risk the return of his nightmares. In the months following the discovery of the Orb in Algeria he had quickly given up the hope that the nightmares were going to disappear eventually.  
  
“You don't seem too eager about it,” the baron noted.  
  
Daniel swallowed, hands fidgeting with the edge of the quilt nervously. Deciding that honesty seemed like the best course of action, he answered, “no, I'm not, really.”  
  
“Are you not tired?”  
  
“It's not that,” he said, looking down at his lap. “I just doubt that I'd be able to sleep. I'm not ready to… I don't want to see those dreams again.”  
  
“Would you rather that I keep you company a little longer?”  
  
He could feel his face burning with shame, and his voice was very small when he replied. “I think I'd like that, yes.”  
  
“Then I'll stay,” Alexander said. He got up, walking up to the desk and setting the now half-empty flask on it. “You lay down. I'll be there in a moment.”  
  
Daniel did as he was told, sliding down on the bed and pulling the covers up until he was warm and comfortable again. He heard the baron move about in the next room and after a little while he returned, carrying a book under his arm. He pulled the chair sitting in front of the desk to Daniel's bedside and sat down on it, laying the book open on his lap.  
  
“You'll read to me?” he asked incredulously.  
  
“Much the easiest way to keep you company without you needing to get up. You may close your eyes if you want – I'll be right here.”  
  
His face felt even warmer than before but he offered no protest. It was thoroughly embarrassing to have another person read to him as though he were a frightened five-year-old, unable to sleep without a bedtime story, but he was much too tired to refuse the offer now.  
  
“One more thing, Daniel.”  
  
“Yes?” he said, casting a sideways glance at the elder.  
  
“Do not think yourself a burden,” Alexander said softly, correctly interpreting his silence. “I don't mind doing this.”  
  
There wasn't a hint of embarrassment in his amber eyes (what a peculiar colour, Daniel thought), seeming entirely unperturbed by the matter. Daniel wanted to say something more, express his gratitude somehow, but the elder's eyes had that intense quality to them once again that somehow rendered him breathless, and all he did was close his eyes and shut out all else but the sound of Alexander's voice.  


* * *

  
The next thing he knew was that he felt unbearably thirsty and, blinking slowly, he sat up. The room came into focus and he realised he must have dozed off at some point; the hands of the clock were pointing at eleven in the morning, and the chair next to his bed was empty. A wave of disappointment washed over him, though he couldn't quite tell why. He knew that Alexander couldn't possibly guard his sleep all night long, but still…  
  
The embers in the fireplace were still glowing, and Daniel guessed the baron must have tended to the fire before his departure. He got up, stretching. The room was pleasantly warm despite the sky outside still being decidedly gray – even the carpet felt warm underneath his bare feet. On the desk stood the flask; a little note lay under it, written in Alexander's familiar cursive.  
  
_Daniel,_ it read, _I'll be waiting for you in the archives. Come find me once you've woken up.  
  
_ He dressed as quickly as he could, not wanting to keep the elder waiting much longer. A part of him was elated that he'd managed to catch some sleep at all; another part felt ashamed that he'd slept so long. What about the blood wards? Surely, Alexander must have been planning to attempt another ritual – the Shadow's presence didn't seem to have disappeared anywhere. His stomach turned around at the thought. What was he doing, wasting precious time on sleep? And with that, clutching Alexander's note in his hand, Daniel rushed out the room.  


* * *

  
“Ah, there you are,” Alexander called as he arrived. “I see you managed to catch some sleep, after all.”  
  
Daniel closed the door behind himself with a snap. He was badly out of breath; he'd broken into a run halfway there and his feet had refused to slow down until he'd found the room the baron was waiting in. The note was still in his hand, crumpled up and damp with sweat.  
  
“Alexander, I am so sorry I overslept,” he breathed, edging closer. “You should have roused me – we are late, aren't we? The ritual—“  
  
But Alexander took him by the arm before he could finish the sentence, leading him towards an armchair sitting in the corner of the room. A small table beside it was taken up entirely by a tray, laden with a teapot, cups and a pile of scones.  
  
“Sit down and have something to eat, Daniel. We are in no hurry.”  
  
“But… the Shadow— shouldn't we just—?”  
  
Alexander fixed him a long, meaningful look that left no room for argument. Daniel quailed, quickly deciding that sitting down for breakfast was indeed the best course of action. He seated himself, allowing Alexander to hand him a teacup without another word.  
  
“Did you take any more of the tonic after waking up?” the baron asked while pouring his cup full of tea. Earl Grey this time, Daniel thought, recognising the scent.  
  
“No,” he admitted.  
  
“Be sure to take some later. Don't worry if you finish it – I have more in stock should it be needed.”  
  
“Alright. Thank you, Alexander.”  
  
The elder set down the pot, pouring some milk in his cup for good measure. Daniel wanted to tell him that he shouldn't have, that it wasn't becoming of his position, but something told him it would only have earned him another withering look. He mumbled his thanks and Alexander returned the milk can on the tray, sitting down on another chair opposite Daniel's.  
  
He kept an eye on the younger man the whole time he ate with the air of watching a disobedient child finish his meal. Daniel wished he would look away; he felt even more nervous in the baron's presence than usual, and his unblinking attention wasn't helping matters much. Still, he managed to force himself to eat a handful of scones, each lathered with a thick layer of butter, feeling fuller than in days. Alexander was eyeing him with satisfaction when he finally wiped his fingers on a napkin, having eaten as much as he could.  
  
“Better?”  
  
“Much better. Thank you.”  
  
“No need to thank me, Daniel. I daresay you were hungrier than you thought.”  
  
The brunette laughed, embarrassed. “You would be quite right, I have to admit. I haven't been eating that well in the past week.”  
  
Alexander inclided his head. “I have noticed. Your appetite has diminished greatly since your arrival – or since we started the rituals, perhaps.”  
  
Daniel couldn't help squirming in his seat uncomfortably, though the baron didn't sound angry. “I am so sorry— I didn't think myself so faint of heart—“  
  
“You are not faint of heart,” the baron cut across him decisively. “One inherits many unpleasant duties alongside one's title, even with one as lowly as a baron's. I did not consider the fact that not all men are raised with such duties, that you would not be used to seeing things of such nature... Old age can make men forgetful and inconsiderate, Daniel; that was my mistake. I should have prepared you more thoroughly before forcing this on you.”  
  
“Please don't blame yourself,” the Englishman rushed to say. For some reason, Alexander's apologetic manner was making him feel even more flustered. “You have done more to rescue me than I deserve—“  
  
“I shouldn't have rushed you as I have—“  
  
“What choice did you have? If the Shadow is as close as you say, we… The Shadow!“ Daniel stopped abruptly. He stood up so quickly that he bumped against the table, sending the tray and its contents rattling precariously. “We can't waste more time – we should prepare for another ritual, buy us some time—“  
  
Alexander, too, stood up. He placed his hands on the younger man's shoulders, holding him still. “You shouldn't push yourself to do this. If you are not ready, we can wait – the blood wards should keep the Shadow at bay for now.”  
  
But Daniel shook his head. His hands were trembling but he squared his shoulders, willing himself to appear calmer than he truly was. “I am ready, Alexander. Let's just get it over with.”  
  
He was almost certain the elder could read from his eyes the familiar flutterings of panic that had settled in his belly again. Alexander stared at him for a long while without saying anything, as though wanting to decline, but to Daniel's immense relief he nodded eventually and did not offer another word of protest.  


* * *

  
It was late in the evening before he came to his senses again. Daniel had very little memory of the ritual; he had a collection of hazy images in his head that seemed unrelated and confusing, but his hands remembered what his mind denied. The rope burns; the weight of the hammer; the sensation of breaking bone. No crying voice or pleading face came to him, but it was all there, the shame, every inch of it burned into his muscle memory.  
  
It had been a relief to return to the guest quarters and find a change of clean clothes that someone – a servant, no doubt – had laid out for him. He'd downed the rest of Alexander's tonic, the sour burning underneath his chest worse than ever, and he hoped that it'd do something about the tight knot of fear in his stomach. He'd dressed eyes closed, trying not to touch bare skin too much – it only served to remind him of the vulnerability of one's body – for fear that he'd completely lose his head if another impulse struck him. Sometimes, if he clenched his fist just _so,_ he thought he could still feel the warmth of dying flesh between his fingers, throbbing with phantom heartbeat, the blood running down the length of his arm in rivulets, and—  
  
_No, stop that,_ Daniel told himself for the millionth time. The visions were becoming more and more demanding; pulling himself back to reality felt harder each time.  
  
He stole a quick glance at the grandfather clock, grabbed his overcoat and left the guest room. Alexander must already be waiting at the green house, he thought, and he pulled on his coat as he went down the stairs.  
  
The coat fit him rather more loosely than it had some months ago, he noted, but so did a lot of his other garments. It did offer him some comfort; it was easier to forget all the God-awful things inside of him when his clothes hung around him, blissfully hiding his silhouette. The waistband of his trousers wasn't as tight as it had been and he now had to wear braces to keep them up, but he didn't mind. If anything, it was a welcome change that nothing fit too tightly around his waist; at least it couldn't make his stomach aches any worse.  
  
When he reached the entrance hall, he was surprised to find the baron waiting for him. He had his back turned as he conversed with a servant, the hooded figure nodding clumsily every so often. Daniel approached, clearing his throat, and Alexander turned around. He gave the Englishman a small smile, then turned back to the servant briefly.  
  
“That'll be all,” Daniel heard him say, and the servant gave a small bow before turning at his heels and leaving.  
  
“Have I kept you waiting, Alexander?”  
  
“No, not at all,” the baron said graciously. He, too, had changed into a clean outfit, and Daniel nearly tripped over his feet at the sight. Alexander was dressed in a rather daring manner – the collar of his waistcoat was cut very low, revealing a great deal more of his pleated shirt than was strictly appropriate, but what shocked Daniel the most was that he'd forgone his cravat entirely, leaving his neck exposed. The overcoat he wore was of a more simple design than his usual favourite, all frivolous details missing, and it did nothing to take one's attention away from his bared neckline.  
  
Daniel had to admit it was a rather comely look on him, if inappropriate for the situation. He realised he must have been staring for longer than was polite, for Alexander said, “I thought a more relaxed outfit would be more becoming for an evening excursion on the grounds. One wears his best to entertain guests, certainly, but you are not a guest.”  
  
“I'm not?” Daniel said, taken aback.  
  
“No. You are my friend,” Alexander replied, smiling. “And friends should be allowed to be more relaxed around one another without need for all these complications of high society.”  
  
Daniel was grateful that the baron turned away just then, for he felt very warm all of a sudden and was certain it showed. He supposed he should have said something but no stroke of genius came to him, and he remained silent out of fear of blurting out something that would embarrass them both.  
  
Alexander lead the way out of the hall, taking a route Daniel had never used before. In the far corner of the hall there stood a door, virtually hidden from view, and unlocking it brought them to an unlit corridor that seemed only ten or so feet long until Alexander reached out and touched something on the wall. There was the sound of wood grinding against stone and Daniel's jaw dropped as what had appeared to be just an expanse of wall suddenly swung open, creating a doorway.  
  
“This leads to the servants' wing,” the baron explained. He sounded amused by the younger man's reaction. “There is a simple mechanism hidden on the wall – there, do you see it? It allows my servants to move unnoticed between their own quarters and the rest of the castle.”  
  
“Curious,” Daniel said. He followed the baron into the next room, its walls lined with shelves holding glass jars and bottles. What he had taken to be a wall turned out to be an empty bookcase, and he suddenly understood how it had moved out of the way with such ease.  
  
“I keep many of my potions here,” Alexander said, indicating the shelves. “Easily accessible, should the occasion arise. Now, follow me.”  
  
Their journey took them through what seemed like a kind of storage, most of the rooms hosting a rather disorderly collection of everyday items crammed into the shelves. The corridor looked older than the rest of the castle, and one of the rooms had a plain dirt floor. A small pool had formed there and occasionally a drop of water would fall into it from the ceiling.  
  
“This is an older part of the castle. I used to store some of my books and documents here but they had to be moved to the archives when the roof started leaking after the heavy rainfall last year… Watch your step, the floor is slippery here.”  
  
Daniel only had the chance to catch the smallest bit of his surroundings before the baron unlocked another heavy door. There was the odd book here and there lying abandoned on the damp floor, and he guessed the servants had evacuated parts of Alexander's private library in a hurry, arms laden with books. He didn't ask why no one had picked up the fallen books; they had puffed up like a sponge that had sucked in a lot of water, and were starting to look quite moldy.  
  
Alexander led them up a flight of stairs into a long, winding corridor that twisted and turned ever so often, then down another flight of stairs. It was easy to tell the area didn't see many visitors these days; old furniture lay in unlit rooms, covered by sheets, and paintings were leaning against walls here and there, as though waiting to be hung up.  
  
“Through here,” Alexander said, finally leading them into a wide, well-lit corridor. The windows at the other end let in the final rays of the sun – dusk had fallen swiftly as they'd navigated through the servants' wing. Suits of armour flanked a pair of massive wooden doors.  
  
“Where are we?”  
  
“This is the servants' entrance. It leads behind the castle.”  
  
Alexander pushed the doors open and Daniel followed suit. Not too far away he saw the stables; he blinked, suddenly recognising where they were. It had been almost nightfall, just like now, when he'd arrived in Brennenburg, but he remembered his carriage had stopped here, in this courtyard, not too far from the stables. He craned his neck, searching until his eyes found the shape of the greenhouse, just visible at the far end of the yard.  
  
As they walked towards it he had, for the first time, a proper chance to appreciate that Brennenburg did have a proper garden. He had known there must be one, based on how much Alexander had told him about his interest in plants, but the windows in his quarters faced the other way and showed him nothing but a sea of treetops. They walked past a copse of carefully pruned juniper trees and giant rose bushes, and following the wall of the castle was flowerbed after flowerbed. Some of the species had already wilted, but many still bloomed, leaking their sweet smells into the humid night air. Daniel noticed that in front of each type of plant stood a plaque bearing its name, but they didn't stop to read them.  
  
The greenhouse itself stood in the middle of the garden, surrounded by walkways and well cared for flowerbeds. Alexander beckoned to him, having reached it first, and held the door open for the Englishman.  
  
“Wow,” escaped Daniel's mouth before he could stop himself. Unlike the plants in the grounds, many of the occupants of the greenhouse still had their blossoms open. The greenhouse was bigger than he'd expected, and in the very middle there stood a small pond with some species of waterlily that had all of its flowers – in a variety of shades of pink and violet – in full bloom.  
  
“Night bloomers,” the baron said, reading his expression. “I cultivate them in the greenhouse, as many of them are imported species. They require more humid conditions than many of my other plants.”  
  
“I have never seen this type of waterlily before,” Daniel said, awestruck, kneeling in front of the pond.  
  
“It's a tropical variety – extremely difficult to cultivate in these conditions. This was the first year I succeeded in getting them to bloom.”  
  
“You must have paid an arm and a leg just to get them.”  
  
Alexander laughed.  
  
“You could say that. If I wasn't as well-connected as I am, finding a trader capable of importing them would have been quite challenging.”  
  
They walked around the greenhouse, observing the different plants. It occurred to Daniel that he had never heard the baron talk so much; he was obviously excited to have a good listener, and explained in depth about the origins and uses of each specimen that Daniel pointed out. He wasn't familiar with plants, never having grown anything himself, but it was obvious that Alexander cared deeply for all the species he had cultivated, all of them flourishing under his devoted care.  
  
As it grew darker Alexander lit the lanterns hanging from the ceiling, providing some light for their nightly prowl. It made the greenhouse altogether enchanting, Daniel thought. Light reflected faintly off the glass panes, and the flowers, in myriad of colours, stood out better than ever in the dark, like multicoloured butterflies waiting to take flight. The waterlilies, with their tall stems reaching out from the water, swayed quietly in the breeze coming through the doorway, and insects swarmed around them and the lanterns.  
  
Alexander had taken a pair of pruning scissors and carefully clipped a few leaves off the stem of some tall plant bearing yellow flowers. He put down the scissors and laid out the leaves on the palm of his hand, showing them to Daniel.  
  
“The evening primrose,” he said. “It is native to North America and well-known for its medicinal uses.”  
  
“This is the one you mentioned before, isn't it? The one used in the potion?”  
  
“The very same. It's not only its flowers that can be used but its leaves, seeds and roots as well. It is a marvellous specimen, Daniel; indeed, one of the most intriguing plants that I have ever grown in Brennenburg.”  
  
The baron's voice was soft with fondness, his eyes bearing that familiar spark. He turned back to the flowers, carefully caressing the petals of a particularly large blossom. In this light his eyes had that odd glow again. Daniel blinked. Perhaps it was simply a trick of the light, but his eyes had almost the same colour as the flowers he was observing.  
  
“The blossoms in particular are useful,” the baron was saying. The plant stood so tall that he didn't have to bend his neck to examine the flowers. “An excellent remedy to common stomach ailments, and good at alleviating the symptoms of stress. They can grow to be two inches in diameter, making it easy to harvest a large amount of petals at once.”  
  
Daniel smiled despite himself. The elder's voice was coloured with obvious pride at his discovery, and Daniel couldn't help feeling flattered that he'd chosen to share such a private side of himself with him, a foreign man he'd known for less than two weeks.  
  
“Marvellous,” Daniel muttered. The baron looked at him, returning his smile.  
  
It was pitch dark when they exited the greenhouse and Alexander locked the door after them. Daniel kept his eyes firmly on the path beneath his feet; the walk back to the castle was entirely engulfed in darkness, and he feared he’d lose his heart if he acknowledged it somehow.  
  
“Thank you for accompanying me,” Alexander said as they stepped inside and found themselves in the well-lit corridor of the servants’ wing again.  
  
“No, thank _you_ for inviting me,” Daniel said earnestly. “I hadn’t the foggiest that something so lovely could bloom in the darkness – albeit I am not learned in botany as you are, so my knowledge in this field is quite limited in general.”  
  
Alexander fixed him a long, piercing look. “You are afraid of the dark, are you not?“ Daniel felt heat creeping to his face and mortified, all he could was nod mutely. When the baron spoke again, however, his tone was kind. “Not all that hides in the darkness is terrible or fearsome, Daniel. There is also beauty, if one knows where to look – beauty that cannot be found elsewhere.”  
  
“Just like your flowers.”  
  
“Yes, just like my flowers,” Alexander agreed. But Daniel couldn’t help feeling, following him back to the main hall in silence, that Alexander had shown him something more than just flowers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It might be worth mentioning that a man's shirt was basically considered underwear back in the day, so showing off too much of it in the presence of someone you're not intimate with (and outside of the bedroom, no less) would have been quite scandalous. It's not quite the equivalent of answering the door in your underwear, but close. Sure to make your guests flustered at least! :P


	3. Chapter 3

The screaming seemed to go on forever; a scream of such primal terror that listening to it hurt, and he wished the person would just die already, leave him to anticipate his turn in silence… But the screaming grew louder, so loud and near that it could have been coming from inside him, and just when he thought he couldn't take it any more, he realised.  
  
It _was_ him.  
  
Daniel sat up, the screams dying instantly. His chest heaved as though he’d been running for days. He fumbled for a candle in the dark and located it with ease, but his hands shook so badly that it took him several attempts to light it. Finally, a spark, and a small flame burst to life. He let the flint and tinder slip from his grip and fall on the floor unhindered.  
  
There was a horrible burning sensation in his chest and he doubled over, trembling uncontrollably. He could taste bile in his mouth, and barely kept himself from retching.  
  
It wasn’t long until he heard the unmistakeable sound of approaching feet and someone knocked on his door. Daniel’s heart fell; how many times would he interrupt his host’s sleep like this?  
  
“Daniel?”  
  
“Come in,” he answered hoarsely.  
  
A moment later Alexander had opened the door to his bedroom. He stood on the threshold, lit lantern at hand, a look of concern on his face.  
  
“I heard you screaming,” he said. “Nightmares again?”  
  
Daniel nodded without looking up. Alexander closed the door after himself and, setting the lantern on the desk as he went, came to sit down on the edge of the brunette’s bed.  
  
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I tried taking a bigger dosage of laudanum to help me sleep, but….”  
  
“No more laudanum,” Alexander interrupted. “It’s not something that should be used in abundance, and certainly not for a prolonged period of time.”  
  
“But my physician said—“  
  
“You keep taking it much too often and in larger quantities than what your physician originally prescribed you. Not having much effect on you lately, is it?” Daniel looked at him sheepishly, and the baron sighed. “You are building up a tolerance for it, Daniel, and judging by your present condition, I’d say you are having withdrawal symptoms.”  
  
“But— but how am I to sleep without—”  
  
He fell silent under Alexander’s pointed glare. “Lack of appetite. Shakiness. Nervous outbreaks and nightmares. All textbook examples of withdrawal. Really, Daniel, I thought you cleverer than this.”  
  
He couldn’t think of anything to say, fidgeting with the corner of his quilt nervously. Alexander sighed again.  
  
“I can fix you something else to help you sleep if you’d like, but no more laudanum. Alright?”  
  
Daniel bit back his desire to protest. Truthfully, the idea terrified him. He’d gotten used to being able to at least drug himself senseless if nothing else would keep the nightmares at bay, even though recently even that had been difficult – nothing, nothing seemed to lure him into such deep slumber that the Guardian wouldn’t disturb it and rouse him. Seeming to understand what was on his mind, Alexander reached out and, unexpectedly, took the younger man’s hand in his own. Daniel froze, staring at their joined hands.  
  
“Daniel,” the baron said soothingly. “The Shadow alone is putting a great strain on your body. Don’t burden it further with the use of such unhealthy substances.”  
  
His hand was so warm against Daniel’s own, much warmer than he’d expected. A part of him wanted to yank his hand back; another part of him luxuriated in the warmth, almost wanting to reach for the elder’s other hand for more. He felt himself nod slowly.  
  
“You are freezing,” Alexander said, rubbing his hand lightly before letting it go. “I’ll arrange you some tea.”  
  
He tried to mumble his refusal, but Alexander either didn’t hear him or just pretended not to. He was out of the room with the swish of his dressing gown and Daniel cradled his hand against his chest, some of Alexander’s heat still lingering there. His heart skipped a beat, then suddenly drummed twice as fast as though making up for its mistake. First stomach ache and now, palpitations? Was he having another episode?  
  
And yet, a more pressing matter was the shock of Alexander touching him out of the blue. He couldn’t claim to know too much about Prussians and their social habits, but he had been under the impression that they treated personal space with about as much respect as they did back at home in England. He wasn’t accustomed to physical touch; he’d had very few relationships in his lifetime where any kind of physical closeness had been acceptable, and most of them had involved close family. Daniel shuddered as another series of palpitations hit him, leaving an unpleasantly squeamish feeling in his chest. Perhaps he ought to have felt ashamed of himself for wishing the baron wouldn’t have let go of his hand quite so soon, but it had been oddly comfortable for the circumstances.  
  
It seemed to only be a minute until Alexander returned with a tea tray. He set it on the bedside table and Daniel helped himself to tea while the baron busied himself with the fireplace, prodding the still glowing embers and adding more firewood until he had a fire going again.  
  
Daniel sneaked a peek at Alexander and, to his dismay, found the elder perusing him unblinkingly. Feeling flustered for no reason, he lowered his eyes on his cup again, pretending to stir his already well-mixed tea. He felt the mattress dip as Alexander sat down on the bed once more.  
  
“The tea is very good,” Daniel hastened to say. His hands shook as he brought the cup to his mouth and took a sip. “Thank you so much.”  
  
He wished Alexander would say something instead of staring at him in silence, but the baron seemed adamant to make sure he did drink the tea. Daniel sipped from his cup again, trying to hold his hands still. Finally, deciding he couldn’t force down any more, he placed the cup back on the tray. He trembled so badly that the cup nearly fell from his grip but Alexander reached out and caught his hand just in time.  
  
“Thank you,” Daniel began, catching his eye. His attempt at a smile faltered under the baron’s gaze.  
  
Alexander took the cup from him and placed it firmly on the tray. He looked at the Englishman sternly, mouth pulled into a tight line. “You are giving me much cause for concern, Daniel. Your condition has clearly worsened in these past few days.”  
  
“I… I’m sorry—“  
  
Alexander shifted closer. He placed a hand on the brunette’s forehead, then brought it to his chin, tilting his head back slightly. It was costing Daniel every effort not to break the eye contact. The baron placed two fingers over his jugular, his frown deepening.  
  
“Irregular pulse,” Alexander muttered. Daniel swallowed; it felt like he had a lump stuck in his throat suddenly. “Have you had this for long?”  
  
“No,” the brunette answered. His voice was so weak that he was barely whispering. “It started quite recently.”  
  
As though in response to his words his heart throbbed again, the feeling of discomfort in his chest worse than ever. If Alexander would just stop touching him, would pull his hand away…  
  
“Have you had chest pains? Breathing problems?”  
  
“No, just… just heartburn, is all.”  
  
The hand on his neck was so warm he almost, almost forgot himself and leaned in to the touch. Alexander leaned towards him ever so slightly, eyes narrowing as he seemed to examine something. Daniel could see his lips parting as he continued talking, but the younger man wasn’t taking in a single word any more.  
  
Was his mouth as warm as his hands, per chance?  
  
“Are you listening to me, Daniel?”  
  
Alexander smacked his lips with a hint of annoyance, and all the brunette could do was stare at his mouth as it moved. The slight flick of a tongue behind his teeth – surprisingly white, even teeth for his age – and Daniel felt the knot in his stomach tighten. Did the flavour of the tea they’d had that evening still linger on the elder’s tongue?  
  
“Daniel?”  
  
The baron made to remove his hand but Daniel caught it almost reflexively around the wrist. Alexander started, taken aback.  
  
“Daniel? Is everything—“  
  
“Don’t pull away,” the younger man cut across him. When had his voice gotten so hoarse?  
  
“I’m not sure I’m—“  
  
His lips parted again and to Daniel everything seemed to happen in slow motion; every movement of his mouth, the gleam of moisture on his lips. Alexander’s next words were cut off as Daniel leaned in and, without thinking, brought his lips against the elder’s. For a moment the baron seemed frozen in place and he seemed to lean in instinctively, lips lightly brushing against Daniel’s. The brunette’s heart gave a heavy thud as his brain caught up with him. _It’ll be okay if he kisses me right back,_ he thought wildly, _it’ll all be okay if he kisses me…  
  
_ But a second later Alexander shoved him off, jumping up from the bed. His eyes were wide with shock.  
  
“What on earth—“  
  
“I’m so sorry,” Daniel rushed to say. His voice came out breathless and he hated himself for it. “I didn’t mean to… I mean, I don’t know what came over me—“  
  
Alexander was staring at him as though seeing him clearly for the first time. His voice shook slightly when he spoke again. “I’ll leave you to rest. You must be exhausted.”  
  
“No, please! I’m sorry, don’t leave me alone—“  
  
“Goodnight, Daniel,” the baron said abruptly. He was gone before Daniel had even managed to shed his beddings, the door slamming shut behind the baron with an air of finality.  
  
“Oh, my God,” the younger man said, horror-struck. He sank back on the bed, shaking all over. The knot in his stomach was gone; his mind was screaming but his body seemed to have gone strangely numb, as though he’d stepped right outside of it all of a sudden. “What the hell have I done?”  
  
He thought of what Alexander's lips had felt like pressed against his for that brief moment, and all he could do was stare unseeing into nothingness as a black pit opened beneath him and swallowed him whole.  


* * *

  
He didn’t show up for breakfast or brunch, nor was he summoned either. It was only at lunch time when a servant turned up and left him a note in the drawing room, and it took all the courage he could muster to even read it. He’d been half-expecting Alexander to evict him from the castle personally and tell him to crawl back to Africa, but the note said nothing whatsoever about what had transpired the night before. It was very short; all it said was to come downstairs as soon as he could. The thought of facing Alexander terrified him, but he knew the baron would be even angrier if he neglected his duties.  
  
They didn’t exchange a word throughout the ritual. Daniel couldn’t decide which was worse, the silence or the idea of talking about what had happened between them. Alexander seemed to be avoiding his eye; he thrust a knife in his hands without a word and stood sentinel while Daniel set to work. It took very little for a wave of nausea to sweep over him this time, the smell of blood so strong in his nostrils that it made him want to throw up again, but he pressed on regardless. Every cut, every movement was agony inside of him, to the point where he wasn’t sure that he hadn’t just lost his head entirely and actually plunged the blade into his guts, and that the man strapped to the table wasn’t just a figment of his imagination.  
  
Alexander circled around the room slowly as he worked on the prisoner, and Daniel had a fleeting suspicion that he wanted to keep an eye on him in case he decided to make a run for it. Hands shaking, teeth grit together, he cut over and over again until the man moved no more. He couldn’t do that to Alexander, no matter what – if he fled now, he would surely doom them both. A searing ache cut into his chest at the very thought. No matter how much the baron despised him now, Daniel knew he owed him his allegiance; Alexander’s life, too, was now in danger because he’d helped him.  
  
The day passed as though in a dream. He had no recollection of the ritual ending or of walking back into his quarters, but suddenly the clock chimed eight in the evening and he found himself sitting on the edge of his bed, arms stained liberally with now dried blood. His eyes burned and he blinked hastily, uncertain how much time had passed while he'd been staring into space with unblinking eyes.  
  
He looked at his hands, skin feeling too tight beneath the layer of caked blood. He thought briefly about taking a bath, but the idea was terrifying. The bathroom contained too many dangers, too many temptations for the unbalanced mind. The shaving knives, the scissors, all in plain sight and within the reach of his arm should he sit in the tub. Daniel shuddered involuntarily, closing his eyes. No, he couldn't risk it, not now. He was not certain if self-murder would satisfy the Shadow's hunger for blood or if it would simply turn towards Alexander in his stead, but he couldn't leave the baron alone in this mess.  
  
In the end he tossed the dirty shirt into the laundry pile and washed his upper body with his eyes firmly closed. The water was icy and made him shiver violently, but it had a sobering effect in a way; at least it offered a temporary relief from any unwanted impulses.  


* * *

  
Daniel was nothing if not alarmed when there was a knock upon his door some hours later. He'd counted on not having to face Alexander again until the next day, but the sound of knuckles on wood was too sharp and loud for it to be anyone else. The servants who came to his door tended to knock rather weakly, to the point where Daniel hadn't heard them a couple of times and they'd been forced to stand there waiting for minutes on end 'till he'd finally responded.  
  
A part of him wanted to pretend he wasn't there, but he steadied himself and called, “, come on in” as if nothing had happened.  
  
It took some time for the door to open, and for a wild moment he thought that perhaps it was one of the servants after all. Finally the baron entered the room, his body language speaking of extreme reluctance.  
  
“Good evening,” Daniel said stiffly, avoiding his eye. The baron gave no sign he'd heard him.  
  
“I brought your tonic. Make sure to drink it.”  
  
Alexander placed the bottle on the desk, looking everywhere but at him. Daniel bit back the impulse to thank him; he'd been fully prepared for this reaction, had known all along that he'd ruined the budding friendship between them for good, and yet the baron's cold avoidance hurt more than he cared to admit. He would have much preferred the other yell at him or slap him, anything that would have made it easy to either beg for forgiveness or defend himself – give him an easier exit out of the situation, somehow.  
  
It seemed the baron wasn't going to give that to him, however. He turned to leave without another word, and despite his increasing anxiety Daniel felt sudden anger flare at his gut. So he'd rather humiliate him further and keep him in his debt?  
  
“Wait,” he called out before he could stop himself.  
  
Alexander's hand stilled on the door handle. “I beg your pardon?”  
  
“Stay where you are and stop avoiding me!”  
  
He hadn't meant to shout. He hadn't even meant to raise his voice, yet it exploded out of him before he had the chance to even consider his words. The weeks, months of barely holding on to his senses seemed to be burning out of him like some sort of acid, and he had no control over it any longer. Daniel trembled, this time with rage, getting to his feet unevenly. “Don't you dare turn your back on me,” he spat. “Or are you too cowardly to face me?”  
  
There was a sharp intake of breath. Alexander straightened his back and replied with his silkiest voice, “, are you suggesting that I am a coward, Daniel?”  
  
“What else would you have me think? You haven't looked me in the eye since… since...”  
  
The baron turned around, a most thunderous expression on his face. It rendered him somehow less human, his features sharper with anger. “You don't seem to understand,” he said, voice dropping by an octave. “I have been careless to let the situation escalate this far. It is most _inappropriate_.”  
  
Daniel winced involuntarily.  
  
“So just throw me out and leave me to die then if I insulted you so much!” the brunette shouted. “Instead of jerking me around and humiliating me—“  
  
“I don't wish to throw you out,” Alexander interrupted, suddenly looking puzzled. “And I most certainly do not wish for your death.”  
  
“But you're disgusted with me, aren't you? After what I did last night?”  
  
“I never said I was disgusted with you. How do you come up with these ridiculous ideas?”  
  
Daniel gaped at him, unsure if he'd heard right. “But you just... When I kiss— I mean, when I did that, you just left and...” He stammered. “You've been avoiding me all day after that! If it wasn't out of disgust, then what? I don't know what to think any more!”  
  
They stared at each other in silence for a long, uncomfortable moment. Alexander looked away first, taking a few steps towards the fireplace, massaging the bridge of his nose absent-mindedly. He continued pacing around slowly when he finally spoke again. “I believe my actions have given you the wrong impression about what I require from you, Daniel. You speak of being indebted to me for saving your life – an understandable feeling but entirely misplaced, I'm afraid. Do believe me when I say that I've come to regard you as a good friend; I do not wish for you to pay for my help with... _services_ of any kind.”  
  
Daniel blinked, processing Alexander's words. He felt his face go red when realised what he meant. “That's not it at all! I would never— I'm not some—“  
  
He couldn't bring himself to say 'harlot', but Alexander seemed to know exactly what he meant.  
  
“So what you did last night...”  
  
“I don't know why I did it,” Daniel exclaimed. “I wasn't thinking! It felt like it just happened on its own and when I realised what I'd done, you—“  
  
“I pushed you away and left,” the baron finished for him. Daniel nodded mutely. “It seems apologies are in order.”  
  
“It is I who should apologise, Alexander. For insulting you, for yelling at you, for— for making unwanted advances at you,” he said, the last words coming out as a rushed jumble. He'd never felt more embarrassed in his life.  
  
“I never said they were unwanted,” Alexander interrupted, frowning at him.  
  
“You… you didn't?”  
  
The elder stared at him in silence for a good long while, almost as if throwing the question back at him. He felt exceptionally slow all of a sudden; perhaps it was the lack of sleep or the aftershocks of the day's ritual, but he couldn't quite piece together what Alexander was hinting at. There was no way… But then Daniel thought back on how he'd believed for a moment that the other man had been about to kiss him back, and suddenly, he realised.

That was exactly what it had been. He hadn't been delusional, after all.  
  
“Truly, if I'd known you weren't offering it as a means to pay me back for my help...” the elder mumbled, finally looking away. Daniel was still staring at him; was he really hearing this? “I realise I have been very insensitive towards you and hurt your feelings in ways I did not intend, and for that, I am sorry.”  
  
Alexander, apologise to _him?_  
  
“You mean… you're alright with this?” he asked incredulously. “That I'm… that I would think of you as a… well...”  
  
“Why would I not be alright with it?”  
  
Daniel hesitated. “I'm not sure what to think myself, if I'm totally honest. I only just realised _this_ ,” he indicated the two of them helplessly, waving his hand back and forth. “I wasn't aware of it until, well, last night, and… well, I hadn't considered any other alternatives than rejection, to tell the truth.”  
  
He would have given anything, anything at all, for the ground to swallow him whole, but true to his luck he was still standing there and Alexander was once again staring at him. The elder walked towards him slowly, mouth half-open and an expression of utter disbelief upon his face.  
  
“You seriously thought that I'd reject you?” he asked. “You, of all people?”  
  
A hundred different responses came to him, almost escaping his mouth. _I barely know you. We just met. You're saving my life. I'm a man._ But the look on the baron's face silenced him, and all he did was nod.  
  
Alexander cupped his face between his hands and kissed him full on the mouth. When he broke away it was only to murmur something, but the heat of his mouth, still lingering on Daniel's lips, was taking most of his attention. “I'm sorry,” he thought the elder said. “I'm sorry.” And then he kissed him again.  
  
It was awkward at first, he had to admit that. Strange angles. Teeth. He didn't know what to do with his hands. He tried to follow the older man's movements, and more than once their noses mushed together. It was strange and too warm and too close but he didn't want to end it; it was strange, yes, and strangely good, the kind of good that grows on you until it holds you spellbound. He had to have more – God knows he wanted it, had wanted it for quite a while already. He kept forgetting to breathe and it made him dizzy, and the baron's calloused hands were still touching his face.  
  
“You are allowed to touch me,” Alexander whispered, pulling away ever so slightly. Daniel swallowed. They hadn't moved an inch, yet he somehow felt more nervous than ever.  
  
“I… I don't know how,” he admitted. “I have never… done this before...”  
  
“I am only guessing myself, Daniel.”  
  
Slowly, he lifted a shaking hand to touch Alexander's face. His skin was so warm against his palm. He caressed the baron's cheek carefully, curiously, index finger brushing against his ear. Alexander closed his eyes, leaning in to the touch.  
  
“Is this alright?” Daniel couldn't help asking. To his relief the elder didn't laugh.  
  
“Yes. Keep going.”  
  
He did. His lips brushed against the elder's softly, breathing in his warmth, but without quite kissing him. He leaned closer and pressed a tentative kiss to the corner of his mouth instead, then moved on to kiss his cheek, the curve of his jaw, his ear; a part of him adamant on mapping out as much of him as he could, finding as many places to kiss as possible. Alexander let out a shuddering sigh, and the sound of it was enough to gather a pool of heat at the pit of the younger man's stomach.  
  
This time it was him who kissed Alexander, claiming his lips more roughly than he'd intended. The elder let out the smallest noise of surprise, but answered his initiation without hesitating. Daniel cocked his head to the side, and to his surprise found this angle more comfortable than the one before, deepening their kiss. He felt Alexander move and for a while he thought he'd made a mistake somehow, but seconds later the elder's arms had wrapped tightly around him. Alexander's body, aflush against his; it was enough to send that pool of heat in his stomach flooding steadily downwards.  
  
Finally, needing to catch his breath, Daniel pulled away. It was a heady feeling, a heady, unfamiliar and most certainly welcome feeling to find Alexander's face so close to his, radiating warmth. The elder's visage seemed more flushed than Daniel had seen it before, his eyes very hazy. It was with a combination of embarrassment and pride that he realised the baron was as out of breath as he was.  
  
_Did I cause that?_ he wondered, astonished. The very thought of it! That any action of his could draw a reaction like that from a man as collected as Alexander… it was beyond flattering. Daniel felt his face burn, but for once, it wasn't from shame.  
  
His legs felt weak and, as though reading his mind, the baron lead him towards the bed and they sat down. They kissed again, twice, three times, while Alexander's hands raked all over him feverishly, as though intent on discovering as much of him as possible, as fast as possible. Daniel felt his fingers carding through his hair frantically, and the brunette moaned into his mouth when the baron's fingers caught into a tangle.  
  
“You have no idea how irresistible you are,” Alexander muttered between kisses. He untied the Englishman's cravat and bent down to kiss his neck, drawing a sigh from him. All Daniel could do was hold on to him – he didn't know what to do with himself, where to place his hands, how to act. He shuddered when Alexander shifted and his hands began working on the buttons of his waistcoat. In seconds it was unbuttoned and Daniel helped Alexander ease it off him. Copying him, Daniel's trembling hands fumbled with the baron's waistcoat but eventually he managed to open it. Alexander cast it on the floor without a second thought and captured his face between his hands again before claiming his lips with another bruising, passionate kiss.  
  
Daniel found himself being lowered on the bed and he let out a surprised _'oomph!'_ as his back hit the mattress. Alexander hovered on all fours above him, face inches from the younger man's.  
  
“Alexander?” He hated how nervous he sounded.  
  
“Is this alright?” the elder asked huskily. Loose strands of hair tickled Daniel in the face and he had a sudden impulse to brush them back and kiss the man on top of him again.  
  
“Yes,” he heard himself say. He wasn't quite sure what 'this' was or where it would take him, but he was wide awake and his body yearned to be touched. He didn't know how or where exactly or how much, but he needed it more badly than ever; his trousers had gotten so unpleasantly tight that it was nigh on impossible to think otherwise.  
  
Alexander's response to his silent plea was so swift that it was almost like he'd read Daniel's mind. When they kissed again their bodies pressed together, every little movement magnified tenfold by the sudden friction. They were so close that it left very little to imagination; even throught his trousers Daniel could feel the baron's erection pressing against him, just as aroused as he was.

They broke away, a thin thread of saliva still clinging from their lips. Alexander was all but panting; there was a strange, almost predatory glimmer in his eye that left Daniel breathless and wanting, always wanting. He let out a groan as the elder dipped lower and kissed his neck, sucking at the tender flesh until it was sore, then moving to another spot to repeat the procedure. Daniel bit his lip to keep from moaning out loud. He felt Alexander open his collar, exposing more unmarked skin, and the sensation of his hot breath on bare skin made his toes curl. He knew the baron could feel him squirming beneath him, could feel his body responding to his attentions, and he wished Alexander would hurry up before it drove him mad.  
  
“Does it hurt?” Alexander murmured into his ear, voice so heavy with need that Daniel felt his mouth go dry.  
  
“No,” he managed. “Quite the opposite, truth to be told.” It was certainly not pain he felt from whatever it was that Alexander was doing to his neck; the light pinching of his teeth was nothing to the wave of pleasure that followed each bite, leaving him willing to beg for more.  
  
“No, I assumed as much, judging by _this_ ,” the baron said, smirking, and gave his hips a roll. Daniel inhaled sharply, feeling his erection press forcefully against the other man's crotch. Alexander's smile widened – from this angle, his teeth looked strangely sharp.  
  
“Quit teasing me so,” Daniel breathed. There was no room for embarrassment in his mind any more.  
  
Alexander undid the fastenings of his trousers swiftly and the brunette groaned, some of the pressure gone. He felt the elder yank down his trousers and tug free the long hem of his shirt, but when Alexander made to push up the hem, revealing his midsection, Daniel froze. Alexander's hand caressed his belly in the same gentle, lingering manner as before, but instead of turning him on it roused a flare of panic in him. The finger tips raking over his exposed flesh could have been knives, a sharp blade tickling his skin carelessly while its user pondered where to plunge it. Daniel pursed his lips, mentally shaking himself.  
  
_Don't think about that now,_ he tried telling himself, _just push it off your mind._ But it was in vain. Just then, Alexander chose to kiss his bared stomach, but it felt like someone had stabbed him instead. In his mind's eye he saw himself drive the knife right into his guts and yank out something pulsating and bloody, as if the Guardian had taken over him suddenly.  
  
Daniel screamed and clamped his hands over the gaping wound.  
  
“Daniel?” The baron's voice, somewhere nearby, sounded alarmed.  
  
Blood was seeping between his fingers as easily as it would through paper; it wouldn't stop, the flow wouldn't stop, he was going to die, die, die…  
  
“Daniel? _Daniel!_ ”  
  
Alexander was shaking him, fingers digging into his shoulder. Daniel's eyes flew open and he panted, heart racing like never before. He found himself lying on his side, legs pulled up to his chest. His arms had wound around him as though attempting to cradle himself to sleep.  
  
“Daniel? Are you alright?”  
  
Alexander's eyes were very wide, shock etched deeply into every line on his face. Slowly, Daniel disentagled himself and sat up. He lifted up his hands, staring at them in disbelief; there wasn't a drop of blood to be seen anywhere. He could still feel himself shake all over.  
  
“What happened?” the baron asked. He sat in front of the younger man, still eyeing him gingerly. Daniel merely placed a hand over his belly, massaging the spot where the dagger had sunk. He thought it still ached a bit. Alexander pulled his hand away, holding it firmly with both of his own.  
  
“What was it this time?”  
  
“A knife,” Daniel answered.  
  
There was an uncomfortable silence. Daniel could tell the baron was still looking at him with concern, and he wished he'd look away. He was unpleasantly aware of how loud his breathing sounded and he tried to force it to slow down, but without much success.  
  
Alexander sounded hesitant when he spoke again. “Perhaps we ought to stop.”  
  
“No,” Daniel said, more bluntly than he'd intended. He caught Alexander's eye and saw him lift an eyebrow quizzically. Daniel could feel his face burning again but he refused to back down now. “We can… we can keep going. I— I think I still want to do this.”  
  
Why on earth did he have to stammer now?  
  
The baron considered him for a while before answering, letting go of his hand. “Alright, if you are sure.”  
  
“I am,” Daniel pressed on. “Only...”  
  
“Yes?”  
  
He faltered. It seemed like such a childish thing, but… “I'd like to keep my shirt on. I don't think I can… I can't do this without—“  
  
Alexander pressed a finger on his lips, silencing him. “It's alright, Daniel. I understand.”  
  
When he tried to think about it afterwards, his recollections were a little hazy. Touch and movement blurred together, making it impossible to tell where one started and another ended. He knew the baron whispered to him through it all – endearments, encouragement – but he couldn't quite distinguish the words, make sense of a single sentence. But he remembered the feeling of Alexander's hands on him, of friction and their bodies pressed together, and later, when the sheen of sweat on his skin had begun to dry and they lay there next to each other, he felt incredibly content and so, so fulfilled that all that had happened before had left his mind entirely.  
  
The body next to him shifted. “Are you alright?”  
  
“Mmmh.”  
  
The baron laughed. “Rare to see you so tongue-tied.”  
  
He muttered something indistinct and rolled over to his side. He searched for the other man in the dark, then leaned closer and kissed him, long and hard.  
  
“What was that?” Alexander asked when they broke apart. He was playing with the younger man's hair, curling and twisting locks around his finger, combing out random tangles as he went.  
  
“Stay with me tonight,” Daniel repeated his words, glad that the fire behind him couldn't quite illuminate his face.  
  
Alexander's hand stilled. There was just enough light for Daniel to make out his eyes, and they were very wide as he stared at him in a thunderstruck sort of way.  
  
“Are you sure?” the elder said quietly, his voice almost hesitant.  
  
“Absolutely sure.”  
  
“I wouldn't want to intrude—“  
  
“You're not intruding,” Daniel said firmly. “Stay. Please.”  
  
A part of him wanted to admit that he did not want to face the night alone, not when there was an alternative, but the words wouldn't come. Alexander seemed realise what was on his mind, however.  
  
“Why are you afraid of the dark, Daniel?”  
  
“I don't know. It's just… it's just always been there.” He closed his eyes, willing his voice to stay indifferent. “The night always comes, no matter what I do. I can't get away from it.”  
  
_He's on all fours at the foot of the stairs, eyes wildly looking for the door he knows is there, right above him, but nothing materialises from the darkness. He's five years old and father yells through the door, telling him to stop snivelling._  
  
_He tip toes to the wardrobe and slips in as the shouting begins, making himself as small and unnoticeable as possible. Glass shatters and mother's cries are cut off abruptly by an echoing_ slap _, and Daniel already knows her face will be a sickly blueish yellow tonight. He's seven years old and she won't kiss him goodnight for days. He'll go to Sunday church alone with father again. Daniel's stomach aches, but he keeps quiet. Their voices are so loud in the dark of the wardrobe._

_He inhales and inhales but there is no air in the tomb. A searing pain makes him double over, his lungs crying for air. It's dark, it's too dark. He's twenty-seven and he's dying, his last rational memory of closing the blue, shimmering artifact in his hands._  
  
Alexander took his hand, asking no more questions. They lay in silence for a long time, the only sounds in the room coming from the crackling fire and the quiet ticking of the grandfather clock. For a moment Daniel though the baron had fallen asleep, but then he spoke again, his voice barely louder than a whisper.  
  
“There is a species of lily that only blooms at night,” he said, still holding Daniel's hand. “ _Lilium Casablanca_. It is said to have the loveliest scent of all lilies.”  
  
Daniel made a noncommittal sound, indicating that he was listening.  
  
“While it requires a lot of sunlight to grow, it has to be planted at new moon, when the nights are dark. It is a beautiful sight in daylight, too, but to fully appreciate its splendour one must brave the dark, when it fully releases its fragrance to the night.” Alexander brough his hand up to his lips and kissed his knuckles softly. “Perhaps you'll let me show it to you one day.”  
  
Daniel smiled. “I think I'd like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ended up getting longer than the others, but I think it was worth it. Let me know what you think. ;) Thank you all so much for all the comments and kudos so far, next chapter coming in two weeks!


	4. Chapter 4

Returning into the dungeon was inevitable, Daniel knew. He knew they were far from done – he could feel it in the vague shroud of threat hanging heavily around him – but stepping into those dark hallways again made his hair stand on an end nevertheless. Alexander's hand on his shoulder guided him calmly, but it was not enough to make him forget what awaited him. It made his insides squirm like snakes, and all he could do was press on despite his fear.  
  
There was worry in the baron's eye as he prepared the sacrifice, and his expression, usually unreadable, betrayed a hint of hesitation when he pressed the knife in the younger man's hands.  
  
“I'm alright,” Daniel said with more confidence than he actually felt. “I can do this.”  
  
Alexander looked like he wanted to say something more, but all he did was nod. Daniel thought he saw his hand twitch as though about to reach out to him and stop him, but he simply stepped aside, looking away.  
  
“Let us begin.”  


* * *

  
The air itself felt lighter afterwards, he thought, or maybe it was just the relief of getting out of the stink of rot and blood. He took a steadying breath. No, it wasn't just his imagination. It was easier to breathe, somehow, as though the constant clutching sense of dread had relaxed its grip for a moment.  
  
“Here. Drink up,” Alexander was saying. Daniel looked up, taking the cup the other man was offering. He recognised the scent of the flowery tea that they'd enjoyed a few nights before, and though the muscles in his face felt stiff from disuse, he smiled gratefully.  
  
“Thank you,” he said. The cup felt hot in his hands but he hastened to take a sip, quite eager for the tea's calming effect.  
  
They'd retired in Alexander's study once more; the baron had told him on their way back upstairs to get changed and meet him in the parlour as soon as he was done. Daniel had a hunch he didn't want to allow too much spare time for his anxious thoughts to manifest, and he couldn't help feeling immensely thankful for this little act of consideration.  
  
As he drank he felt warmth spreading throughout his chest and slowly seeping back into his extremes, immediately calming the ache that had been building up in his belly. He sighed, leaning back in his seat almost unconsciously.  
  
“How are you feeling?” Alexander's voice seemed to be coming from somewhere far away.  
  
“Better now, thanks to this,” he murmured, closing his eyes. He could feel the beginnings of a headache throbbing vaguely at his temple but it felt so distant, so unimportant at the moment that he didn't want to bother to think about it until later. Much, much later.  
  
He heard the soft rustle of fabric and felt the cushions dip, and knew that Alexander had sat down next to him on the sofa. When he opened his eyes he found the elder looking at him, gaze soft with fondness.

Daniel had awoken several times during the night, but it had taken him significantly less time to calm down with Alexander's arm draped around him, his presence practically radiating safety. He'd held him until his breath had calmed down and he'd stopped shaking, whispering comforting things in his ear till he'd drifted off to sleep once more. The memory made Daniel smile, and Alexander smiled back at him.  
  
“Thank you for last night,” the brunette said. “For staying.”  
  
“Don't mention it. Were you able to get some rest, at least?”  
  
“I feel more rested than I have in months.” He took a sip of his tea, never taking his eyes off Alexander. “You must have worked some magic spell on me.”  
  
The elder chuckled. “It is hardly magic, Daniel.”  
  
“Could have fooled me.”  
  
He set his cup down on the table and Alexander copied him. For a moment they just stared at each other, until Alexander moved and closed the distance between them. Before Daniel knew it they were already kissing, the baron lips claiming his in almost demanding fashion. He felt himself being pushed against the arm rest and his arms wrapped around the other man.  
  
There was a certain thrill to being so close to him after last night. Daniel's body ached in all the right places with each movement when they were pressed up against each other, and based on the noises Alexander was making between their kisses he felt it, too. The baron was almost as flushed as he was when they broke apart; it made Daniel want to tangle his fingers in his hair and bring their mouths together again.  
  
“Spend the night with me again? Please?” he breathed. To his sorrow Alexander shook his head.  
  
“Forgive me, not tonight,” the elder said, sounding almost as disappointed as he was. “There are some matters that I need to take care of.”  
  
“Shame,” Daniel said with a sigh.  
  
“There will be other nights. Be patient.”  
  
“If you insist.”  
  
And with that he kissed the baron again.

* * *

  
There it was again, the blue light – at the very edge of his fading vision, just out of reach. It flickered in and out of focus, his vision growing blurry, but he had to keep moving towards it. The floor was cold beneath his bare feet; he was stiff and clumsy from the cold, and his knees ached from having fallen over so many times. Yet the enticing light called to him; the only light in the falling dark. He reached out his hands though he knew it was too far away, trying desperately to keep up his pace, feet flying across the damp stone floor as he'd broken into a run without noticing it.  
  
He stumbled and fell again, landing painfully on his knees. Even as he pushed himself up he could tell he hadn't much time; each time he gasped for air there seemed to be none left, nothing to fill his lungs. His hands went up to his throat reflexively as he tried to draw in another desperate breath, knowing it was for naught… There was a ringing in his ears that wouldn't go away and a burning pain in his lungs, a most familiar feeling – this had happened once before, he could tell. Surely he was suffocating to death, just like back in Algeria…  
  
That gave him a pause. But he hadn't died in Algeria, had he? He tried to focus his gaze on the faint light ahead; was that not the Orb? The light was making his eyes water, but even through the tears he could see the light reflecting from the walls. _This is not the tomb,_ he thought. Air felt cold in his mouth suddenly, and he became aware of how fast his chest was rising and falling. He wasn't suffocating; he was breathing too fast once again, and the lack of air was making him dizzy. With painstaking effort he forced himself to inhale and exhale methodically, slowly, counting each breath in his head until the burning in his chest started to ease. _Inhale,_ a voice in his head said sternly. _E_ _xhale._ The words echoed in his head with each breath, and he was vaguely aware that the voice wasn't his own.  
  
Then, very carefully, he forced himself to take a step, then another and another, advancing towards the blue light with shaking legs.  
  
A growing urgency seemed to be driving him. He tripped and stumbled and slipped on the damp, sloping floor but he only had eyes for the Orb, almost within reach now, and with a great lunge he reached out. Its light seemed so bright that it passed through his hands, blindingly bright, and Daniel closed his eyes against the light, cupping the Orb with his hands. Instead of the smooth, marble-like surface he'd been expecting, however, the thing gave underneath his hands, its texture strangely soft and organic. Daniel frowned, his eyes flying open.  
  
The thing cradled between his hands was not the Orb, after all. He parted his fingers, revealing a cluster of golden flowers, their petals mushed from his grip. He gaped at them. They were dressed in the same pale shimmer that he'd mistaken for the Orb previously.  
  
_'Evening primrose',_ said a voice by his ear. The flowers fell unhindered from his hands. Even as he tried to look around to find the source of the voice he felt a warm hand pressing against his back. _'It's a night bloomer. It only blooms in the dark.'  
  
What a wretched thing, _ Daniel thought bitterly. He looked at the petals now strewn at his feet.  
  
_'What makes you say that?'_

_I don't like the dark._ His stomach tightened into a painful knot and he was suddenly five years old and standing alone in the cellar, hoping against hope that father would unlock the door.  
  
He trembled. A sudden draft left him shivering and made him realise just how cold it was. The flowers scattered, flying across the floor away from him. His stomach ached again, almost forcing him to double over.  
  
_'Not all that hides in the darkness is terrible or fearsome, Daniel.'_  
  
The ground trembled, a distant, hollow cry rising from the earth. It crawled up his spine as a growing wave of anxiety and nausea, and he knew without asking what it was.  
  
If only he'd never entered that tomb. If only he'd never touched that Orb.  
  
As though reading his thoughts the familiar blue shimmer materialised in front of his eyes, but the desire to possess the Orb was gone. It could have been one of the greatest discoveries in modern archaeology – perhaps it would have even brought him fame, fortune, had things taken a different turn somewhere. He might have been remembered as something else than a carpenter's son. Daniel pursed his lips, a bitter taste rising into his mouth. He'd paid a great price for those pitiful seconds it had taken for him to discover the Orb and close it in his hands.  
  
The blue light flickered feebly before the darkness swallowed it once more.  
  
_He's wrong_ , he thought as the ground opened into a terrible maw. _Alexander's wrong. There is nothing beautiful in the darkness.  
  
_ The Guardian roared and the earth shook under its rage. A great tear opened in the floor and Daniel fell forwards, falling into the abyss, until…  
  
“Ouch!”  
  
He found himself with his back against the floor, the cold, hard stones pressing unpleasantly through his clothes. It took him a moment to gather his bearings; it was very dark and he could barely make out the arched ceiling far above him. He let out a slow, relieved sigh. So it had been a dream, after all.  
  
It was so quiet that all he could hear was the racing of his own heart. The ground wasn't shaking, the floor as whole as ever. Gingerly, Daniel pushed himself in sitting position. He had been lying at the foot of the stairs, wearing nothing but his nightclothes. Daniel flushed. All of him seemed to be aching as though he'd just taken a beating and an elbow was bleeding profusely – he guessed he must have tripped and fallen down the stairs.  
  
“I haven't sleepwalked since I was a boy,” he muttered to no one in particular. He was thankful to notice he hadn't managed to wander off any further than the hall outside of his quarters. He got up as best as he could despite his aching limbs and limped barefooted up the staircase. He could barely see out the windows; it must still have been very early.  
  
Daniel was satisfied no one was there to see him. For once, he hadn't woken up the baron with his nightmares. He paused at the top of the stairs, the thought of Alexander making his face feel warm again. It was such a childish thought, but a part of him hoped Alexander was still awake – he had said he had something to take care of, hadn't he? Perhaps he was working on his correspondence or studying something in his office?  
  
Every time Daniel had cried out in his sleep, the elder had been there in a matter of minutes. Surely, that must have meant he had still been in his study? Now that he thought about it, Alexander's private quarters were on the other side of the castle; there was no way he could have heard him had he been sleeping.  
  
_This is so childish,_ he thought, but opened the door and entered the study anyway.  
  
It was slightly warmer in there, and the carpet felt dry and soft against his feet. He hesitated for a moment – perhaps he ought to head back to his own room and at least get changed first? – but the desire for company and a distraction from the nightmare won. He walked slowly, listening for any indication that Alexander was there, but all was quiet. The door to the left was ajar and he peeked in. All the candles were unlit and there was no sign that the room had been vacated recently. The door opposite was closed but that didn't surprise him; Alexander had told him it acted as a rudimentary storage and was hardly ever used.  
  
“Alexander?” he called out meekly, walking further. It wasn't as dark when he turned the corner, but that was only because the curtains in front of the windows were pulled aside, letting in some faint moonlight. No candelabras or lanterns were lit, and he was sure the baron would have heard his call if he'd been anywhere in his study. Daniel sighed, feeling slightly disappointed. He wasn't sure what to do next. The idea of going back to bed and risking yet more nightmares wasn't tempting, and he had no more of Alexander's potion left to soothe the nervous twinging of his stomach. He humoured the thought of simply walking to his private quarters and asking if he could fetch more of it before dropping the idea.  
  
“No,” he told himself firmly. “You've inconvenienced him more than enough as of late.”  
  
It wouldn't hurt to take a look in the office before returning to his quarters for the night, though, Daniel surmised. He doubted Alexander would have kept any of his potions there, but since he was there already... He turned the handle and pushed the door open, finding the room beyond pitch dark. He shuddered, feeling apprehensive, but stepped in regardless. Daniel walked across the room slowly, feeling for the edges of the table as he went. There was some sticky substance on the floor and he let out a repulsed noise as he accidentally tread on it.  
  
With some fumbling he located the door at the end of the room and opened it, finding himself in the tiny office Alexander had shown him a few evenings ago. To his surprise the room wasn't as dark as the rest of the study wing. The fire in the fireplace was burning low but it hadn't yet been reduced into embers, and the stubb of a candle was lit on the corner table, dripping wax on its holder. He wondered if one of the servants had forgotten to put out the fire – Alexander didn't strike him as the absent-minded type, especially when this small room had so many flammable things on all surfaces. Still, it was pleasantly warm and Daniel closed the door after himself, reluctant to let the heat escape.  
  
“I should put out the fire before I go,” he mumbled.  
  
There was still an assortment of books and notes on the desk, and a quick look told him among them were some of the sketches on human anatomy that Alexander had shown him previously. He looked around. Nothing that looked like a bottle or a jar anywhere in sight, just a half-full water pitcher that he assumed was for the fire. He pulled open the drawers, feeling like a snoop, but nothing caught his eye – apart from a collection of skulls that gave him a scare when one of them rolled out of a cupboard when he peeked in. He cursed under his breath, quickly stowing it back in and slamming the door shut after it.  
  
_That'll teach me to enter someone's office without permission,_ he thought, embarrassed.  
  
He grabbed the pitcher for something to do and busied himself with putting out the fire. He returned it on the desk, hoping that a servant would take notice and collect it in the morning. Daniel stretched, every ache in his body ten times worse after falling down the stairs, and he almost looked forward to returning to his bed.  
  
He guessed the candle would have died on its own soon enough, its flame burning low, but he decided against leaving it unattended. He approached the corner table and bent down to blow out the candle when he realised it had dripped wax all over the sheets of paper left on the table.  
  
“I can't believe how careless the servants are,” Daniel muttered, picking up the sheets. The wax had hardened already and came off easily enough, but it had definitely left greasy smudges where it had landed. Daniel recognised Alexander's slanting handwriting immediately and was about to move the papers on his desk when his eyes fell on the date scribbled in the top right corner.  
  
He stared at it mutely. _1658, January 9._  
  
He scanned the contents of the page, but they made little sense to him. He read the date again. It was definitely the baron's handwriting; he thought he would have recognised it even in his sleep. _No, Alexander must have simply copied the text from some_ _old_ _book,_ Daniel told himself. _That's all it is.  
  
_ But there was no denying that the paper was in very poor condition, buckled with moisture and yellowed. The ink had faded in many places. Daniel's mouth felt dry all of a sudden. Something felt off. But no, it was surely a copy. It had to be just a copy.  
  
He leafed through the other papers that had been in the stack. 1647. 1694. 1701. 1633. None of this made sense. Daniel let them fall from his hands and he grabbed the candle holder, the stubb still burning, and made for the desk. He rummaged through the notes littering the desk, the anatomical models, the charts, all crammed full of Alexander's tidy scrawl. Not all of them were dated. He flipped through the book on human anatomy that Alexander had showed him some days previously; it appeared to be the baron's own work entirely. On the inner cover he found the baron's signature, followed by the location and the year.  
  
“Prussia, 1710,” Daniel read out loud. “What the hell does this mean?”  
  
He tried racking his brain for possible explanations, and the candle holder shook in his hand. _Perhaps one of Alexander's ancestors simply had the same given name as him. Perhaps his handwriting just looks similar._ But even as Daniel thought it he knew there was no way – the handwriting wasn't just similar, it was identical, all the way down to how Alexander dashed his t's and curved his g's.  
  
And the book was his original creation, Daniel knew it without asking. _He told me he'd had to do his own research to fill the gaps,_ Daniel recalled, echoing Alexander's words. _That there was no research made in his particular interest.  
  
_ He rushed out of the room, leaving the door ajar after himself. He scanned the illustrations on the walls frantically, taking in the handwriting, the pen strokes, the style. There was no mistake; they were all Alexander's own work, his originals, and Daniel knew even without comparing them side by side with the notes he'd found that their condition and style matched those of the notes. They were from the same time period. He glanced around the room, looking for more clues. On a table on the other side of the room stood a stuffed rabbit, and next to it was a piece of paper. Daniel stepped closer, heart hammering in his chest. Another note.  
  
“'1658, April 12',” he read. “'I must refine this process of torture'… Torture… Oh, my God.” He nearly dropped the candle. “Is this about the rituals? The blood wards?” He reread the lines again and again but his brain seemed unwilling to accept a word of it, none of it committing to memory. He let the page fall out of his hand.  
  
“This is not possible,” Daniel said, his voice trembling. He tore out of the room and into the corridor. “Alexander? Alexander! Are you here?”  
  
There was no response. He followed the corridor to the right where it took a sharp turn. He couldn't see any light ahead but a feeling in his gut said he had to see what was in there, had to know if it held any answers.  
  
He came to a door and tentatively pushed it open, stepping into a dark room. It was emptier than the other rooms and appeared to be dedicated entirely to machinery. There were machine parts on the floor and leaning against the wall, and there was nothing on the table except for machine oil and some instruction sheets detailing the operations of the elevator. None of them bore dates.  
  
There was another door still, standing slightly ajar. Daniel didn't bother knocking or calling out; he was sure now that the baron wasn't in there. Moonlight was shining in through the windows, making it easier to see than before. This room, too, was rather empty – there were two half-empty bookshelves and a working table right by the door. Daniel froze as his eyes fell on what stood on the table.  
  
“What on earth is _that_?”  
  
There was something on the table that seemed to emanate a faint light of its own, and for a wild moment he thought it was the Orb. It was a cylindrical object of some kind; there appeared to be something sphere-like on the top, and the whole thing glowed blue.  
  
Daniel blew out the candle and set the holder on the table. He was eyeing the cylinder apprehensively. His previous experiences with unknown glowing objects hadn't ended well for him.  
  
“It can't be that dangerous if Alexander's keeping it in his study,” he reasoned. It was the only thing of interest in the whole room. The desk was empty of books or notes, apart from a small sketch of different types of gears. “Probably just one of his weird machines.”  
  
And without pausing to think further he grabbed the object with both hands. The next thing he knew was a blinding flash of light and he nearly lost his balance, unable to see. His hands seemed glued to the thing, and a voice that was not his own filled his consciousness as though someone was muttering incoherently in his ear.  
  
At first he couldn't make out any words in the noise; it was all jumbled up nonsense, as though several people were speaking at once. Daniel grit his teeth, the noise making his head hurt. Words jumped at him at random, disconnected sentences becoming connected one by one, until he was able to make some sense of it. _Centuries. Agrippa. Gate. Gained nothing in return._ And beneath it all, anger. Frustration. Desperation. Feelings that were not his mingled with his own, and he heard a voice speak out in his head with such force that he instinctively flinched.  
  
A chill went down his spine when he recognised the voice suddenly. It was Alexander's.  
  
With an almighty yell Daniel tossed the object out of his hands and collapsed, falling on his hands and knees of the floor. His vision returned gradually, tears steaming from his eyes. The flash of light seemed burned into his retinas. His injured elbow was aching worse than ever.  
  
Daniel pushed himself up, shaking all over. There was a terrible, hollow feeling at the pit of his stomach. He saw Alexander's face in his head and had the sudden urge to vomit. Everything, everything was falling into place and falling apart all at once.  
  
_My patience spans centuries. From where I came, mankind is not even wasted a breath, yet I bow to you._  
  
“He's not human.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man. Things get murkier and Daniel has a night-time adventure in his nightshirt. I'm amazed he didn't break his damn neck falling down those stairs.
> 
> Thank you all so much for all the views, comments and kudos, guys! It's very motivating to know that some people in this small fandom still read fic. <3 I know I'm leaving this in a very mean spot this time, but be patient, the next (and final) chapter will be up in two weeks' time. See you all then, and let me know what you thought about this chapter!


	5. Chapter 5

Water ran down his skin in rivulets, making him shiver uncontrollably. Daniel barely noticed it – he could have been sleep-walking again if it hadn't been for the headache that had settled in after he'd touched that device in Alexander's study. He splashed his face with cold water again, grabbed a washing cloth and scrubbed away the blood and the sweat as well as his trembling hands allowed. Blood from his elbow dyed the basin a sickly, watery red.  
  
His stomach twinged painfully again but there was nothing there to come up any more. He'd thrown up as soon as he'd entered the bathroom, but nothing could purge the reek of rotting flesh and spiced wine from his memory, nor the sight of the face that had greeted him on his way out of the study.  
  
One of Alexander's servants had in fact come to put out the fire, or so Daniel assumed. He doubted the thing could talk. He'd approached the figure he'd taken to be a man in a hooded cloak, ready to ask him where the baron was, and it had taken him exactly a split second to realise something was horribly awry. He shuddered, remembering how the thing had slowly, labouriously lumbered towards him, the smell coming off it resembling something that had been dead for a week. It didn't make sense; he must have seen the servants moving around the castle a hundred times before, had been close enough to see underneath the hood if only he'd paid attention, so why had he never noticed? It was as though his mind had been asleep all this time, refusing to acknowledge the obvious.  
  
His thoughts went back to Alexander and the world seemed to go black in front of his eyes. He wanted to convince himself that there was a sensible explanation to everything; that the notes he'd found had been copies, or not written by Alexander at all, or that he'd somehow foolishly misunderstood their meaning entirely. Everything else he might have been able to reason to himself – everything but the cylindrical device he'd found.  
  
He'd been around Alexander's strange machines enough to tell he hadn't hallucinated the whole event. He didn't understand how the device worked or what it did exactly, but the feelings it had roused in him were familiar from his previous encounters with what he'd begun to think of as magic. Daniel closed his eyes, trying to focus on the memory. It always left an echo behind, like a faint tingling in his scalp and running down his spine, and his mind was so, so full that he thought his head was about to burst from it. If he focused enough he could almost hear Alexander's thoughts in his head again. The recollection was punctuated by another throb of pain, almost as though his mind wanted to reject it.  
  
The notes, the device, the servants – it all added up, somehow. Even he could see that. There was a sinking feeling in his stomach as his thoughts went back to Alexander's words. Mankind. He'd spoken specifically of 'mankind', as if he were not a human being at all. The idea was laughable. There had to be another explanation.  
  
With his mind's eye Daniel saw the vision of the Shadow that haunted his dreams, saw the creature in the hooded cloak and the unearthly glow of the baron's eyes, always gone as soon as the Englishman became aware of it. Gone but from memory.  
  
“It's impossible,” Daniel said out loud, but he knew he was only delaying the inevitable. He'd seen enough things in the past months that ought to have been impossible to know by now that 'impossible' simply meant something that he didn't understand or wasn't willing to accept yet.  
  
Daniel tossed the cloth into the basin and dried himself off. The cold water had in no way quelled the flare of panic in his gut.

He dressed in a haze, pulling out clothes from the wardrobe at random. It was still pitch dark outside. He had only briefly considered the idea of laying down and trying to sleep before abandoning it as hopeless. He felt dead on his feet yet he'd never felt less like sleeping in his life.  
  
Daniel sat down by the desk and glanced at the book laying there on top of his notes. He'd taken the book on human anatomy from Alexander's study and brought it with him. Daniel leafed through it, pausing to read every now and then. It got steadily worse the further he progressed; there, underneath the detailed sketches of different organs and descriptions of their fuctions, the baron had also written entire sections detailing how much damage they could sustain and how long a person could be expected to survive afterwards. There was a particularly explicit chapter on vivisection and Daniel shut the book with a snap, feeling nauseated.  
  
Alexander wrote in such a detached way about it all, as if he were merely an observer. As if none of this concerned him. He recalled the way Alexander had looked as they'd prepared for a warding ritual for the very first time; face impassive, voice almost uninterested. The way he'd spoken of torture differed in no way from the way he'd written about his experiments on animals.  
  
Daniel buried his face in his hands, shaking all over. As soon as he closed his eyes he remembered Alexander's hands on his naked skin, voice whispering sweet nothings in his ear. If the baron was not human, what was he? He had certainly felt human enough, Daniel thought, heat rising to his face.  
  
He thought back on their correspondence before his arrival in Prussia. The letters, the advice, the hasty invitation. Daniel had known Alexander only as a name in professor Herbert's address book, a faceless foreign patron he'd never met. The more he thought about it the less sense it made – why _had_ Alexander reached out to him like that and invited him as his guest?  
  
Daniel stood up so suddenly that the chair toppled over, but he didn't bother picking it up. He went to his travelling trunk and searched through it feverishly, pulling out the letters Alexander had sent him. He read them again, each line already so familiar to him that he could recite them from memory, but no sudden wave of understanding came to him.   
  
“It doesn't make any sense. He doesn't stand to gain anything from helping me,” Daniel burst out.  
  
He tossed the letters back into the trunk and started pacing around the room, mind buzzing. He felt delirious with fear. It was as if he were missing some final, crucial piece of information that would tie it all together. He tried to recall if Herbert had ever mentioned the baron before, even in passing. The professor hadn't discussed the financial details of their expedition with Daniel, not that he'd ever approached the subject himself, either. He had a faint memory of Alexander's name appearing on the list of benefactors but at the time Daniel hadn't bothered too much with where their funding came from, all his focus having been on the fact that the expedition to Algeria was finally being realised.  
  
He sat down on the edge of the bed, then got up again, continuing his pacing. The Orb. His missing clue had to be the Orb. The purpose of their expedition had been to find the tomb of the Tuareg queen Tin Hinan, at least on paper. Daniel winced as his head throbbed again. He remembered the documents among Herbert's things speaking of the Orb. The professor had visited the tomb after Daniel's departure and fetched the artifact to the surface, an act that for some reason had terrified the men.  
  
“Herbert must have known something that he didn't share with me,” the Englishman mumbled, stopping on his tracks. “Was it the Orb we were looking for all along?”  
  
The professor must have known at least something about the artifact to have known to look for it. Daniel shook his head, trying not to linger too much on the thought of what had become of Herbert and the rest of the expedition. He had seen too much in the past months to have any hope left that any of them were still alive.  
  
Daniel went to the window and stared, eyes unfocused, into the darkness. If Herbert had known about the Orb, it was only logical to assume that someone – likely among their benefactors – had meant for them to find it. Had someone tipped them off and paid for them to discover the artifact? If so, who?  
  
“Alexander,” the brunette inhaled.  
  
All the trails were beginning to lead to Alexander, no matter how he looked at it. He'd invited a complete stranger into his castle based on one letter, promising his protection. He'd somehow known about the Orb and known what to do with it – had been willing to pass on the information to Daniel.  
  
Daniel didn't know what to make of it. He hovered uncertainly between anger and fearful curiousity, and his head felt as if it was about to split open. All of his clues pointed at the obvious; that possessing the Orb triggered the wrath of its Guardian. The expedition, Herbert, Abdullah, doctor Tate and sir William Smith. All dead because of the Shadow, and Alexander claimed that Daniel would suffer the same fate should he try to dispose of the Orb. Why would the baron have wanted such a dangerous artifact in his hands? Surely their closeness would now place him in immediate danger as well, or was he so certain that the warding rituals would protect them both?  
  
_The rituals._ A chill went down Daniel's spine.  
  
“The Shadow can be lead astray by the blood of another,” he said slowly, repeating what Alexander had told him before the very first ritual. A horrible realisation set in as he recalled the strange gleam in the baron's eyes as he'd held the Orb on his palm; he'd wanted the artifact since the beginning, and he had known exactly how to obtain it.  
  
'The blood of another' had meant Daniel all along. The blood wards weren't for him – they were for Alexander.  
  
“He's trying to kill me.”  


* * *

  
Daniel had no clear recollection of leaving his room. He knew he must have been sprinting for a while; his head was swimming worse than ever but he did not stop, his every thought bent on Alexander. He ached all over from the fall he'd taken earlier but his body was moving as though on its own, whatever pain he felt pushed aside.  
  
Alexander. He had to find Alexander.  
  
There was a strange ringing in his ears and his head felt both empty and too full all at once. He couldn't think. He didn't want to think. He refused. The thought of Alexander's familiar face roused a wave of terror in his gut, terror and anger. That filthy, wretched liar.  
  
He had no lantern, no torch, no light source whatsoever. The corridors seemed endless, a black maw that was colvunsing and collapsing around him as he ran, and Daniel knew that if he stopped, even for a second, he wouldn't be able to carry on. He couldn't give in to the fear, not now. And though his lungs screamed for mercy he sped up, running into doorframes and corners in his haste.  
  
It was as if there was something in his blood that was pulling him in the right direction, a faint calling that told him where to go even when he could not see the path. Daniel didn't know what it was. He didn't care to know what it was.  
  
He practically sprinted through the refinery, coming to a sudden halt only when he saw a shape moving towards him in the darkness. Daniel bit back the whimper about to escape him, recognising the hooded form; it had to be one of the servants. He turned around and ducked behind a wine cask, forcing himself to look away from the horrid thing.  
  
Having seen one of the creatures up close had been more than enough, more than his mind was willing to handle. Daniel forced his eyes shut, but he couldn't stop shaking. He could feel bile rising to his throat as the creature lumbered past his hiding place, the heavy footsteps vanishing in the direction he had come from moments ago.  
  
Daniel did not want to know what the hell Alexander had done to it, or even what it had been. A horribly disfigured thing that was only vaguely humanoid, as though made by the hands of someone who had only the faintest idea of what humans were supposed to look like. Like something that had been lying dead in the bottom of a river for months. He could not fathom what it was that Alexander had used to hide their appearance from him; a spell, an illusion, a mind trick? Whatever it was, it had only taken touching that accursed device to break it, and now he wished it hadn't. He had been happier not knowing.  
  
Alexander's face seemed to swim in front of his eyes, taunting him. No wonder he had been so careful not to leave Daniel alone with them.  
  
He took a steadying breath, opened his eyes and quickly scanned the area. Relief washed over him when he found the place deserted, the unspeakable creature gone.  
  
Without looking back Daniel broke into a run once more.

* * *

He was badly out of breath when he reached the door to Alexander's private quarters, his shirt clinging to his back with sweat. Daniel grit his teeth as his head throbbed again, blurring his vision. The headache had grown steadily worse the closer he'd gotten and he wondered if it wasn't something to do with Alexander.

Daniel turned a corner, the feeling in his gut saying he was going the right way. A door stood ever so slightly ajar at the very end of the corridor and Daniel crept closer, instinctively holding his breath as best as he could.  
  
It was dead quiet. As he got closer he thought he could just make out the faint crackling of fire, and peeking through the gap between the door and the doorframe he saw Alexander's figure, back turned towards the door, seated right in front of a tall window. He appeared to be reading; his head was bent over something, and there was the occasional sound of a page being turned. Daniel risked a closer look, pushing the door open by an inch or two, but the baron did not seem to notice.  
  
The curtains were open, pallid moonlight flooding into the room. Daniel thought the baron looked eerie, almost ghostly in this light, and repressed a shudder at the idea. He was just about to push the door open and enter when another stab of pain shot through his skull, more intense than before. He heard a moan of pain and froze, panic-stricken, sure that he'd accidentally made a noise, but a moment later he heard the baron curse silently. The elder was rubbing his temple as though he, too, was nursing a headache.  
  
_It is something to do with him,_ Daniel thought furiously. He pulled himself into his full height, hands shaking, and slammed the door open without bothering to knock.  
  
Alexander started and looked around. He looked ready to turn in for the night; he was wearing a dressing gown over his nightclothes. His expression changed from irritable to surprised at the sight of him.  
  
“Daniel!” he burst out. “Please knock in the future, you gave me a start.”  
  
Daniel didn't answer. He closed the door after himself, glancing around the room briefly. A fireplace stood on the other side of the room, and a four-poster bed even larger than the one in the guest room was taking up most of the space, placed precisely in the middle of the room, facing the windows. Bookshelves lined most of the walls. Not many places to run as far as he could see.  
  
“Is something the matter?” Alexander took in his dishevelled appearance and stood up, brows knitting together with worry. On the desk behind him Daniel could just make out a small vase where white, trumpet-shaped flower stood in full bloom. “You look terrible. Were you not able to sleep?”  
  
The concern in his voice felt like a knife being turned in Daniel's gut and his hands balled into fists. _Liar._  
  
“Daniel?”  
  
_Impostor_ _._

“Stop acting like you care.”  
  
“Excuse me?”  
  
Daniel felt himself step closer. Though it was quite warm in the room he was shivering. Violently. “You've been playing me for a fool all this time,” his said, voice shaking so badly that he could barely get the words out.  
  
“What are you talking about?”  
  
“Oh, you know _exactly_ what I'm talking about.”  
  
Daniel advanced towards the baron and, looking rather alarmed, Alexander took a step back.  
  
“I can tell that you're upset about something,” the baron said soothingly, but his posture was tense, like an animal preparing to flee. “What is it, Daniel? Did you have another nightmare?”  
  
The brunette's lips pulled back into a smile that did not reach his eyes. “Oh, I'm having one right now. One where you'll have the Shadow kill me while you steal the Orb for yourself.” Alexander paled. Daniel walked closer, his feet moving as though on their own. “Does that sound familiar, Alexander?”  
  
They stared at one another in silence. Alexander seemed frozen in place, and Daniel thought he could almost hear him putting two and two together. He did not take his eyes off the younger man, but his hand made a small, involuntary movement, as though making to grab something, and Daniel felt something snap in his head.  
  
“You liar!”

He yelled like a madman and lunged for the elder, and Alexander tossed the chair at his feet as if trying to put something solid between them. He backed hastily towards the fireplace, keeping the younger man in sight.  
  
“Daniel, you must calm down!” he called with the air of addressing an armed lunatic. “You don't know what you are saying!”  
  
Daniel felt his shoulders shaking and he laughed without knowing why; a dreadful, mirthless sound that left an acidic taste in his mouth and a hollow feeling in his chest. He saw Alexander tense up. _Traitor.  
  
_ “I don't know? _I don't know?_ ” he said. He felt breathless, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “That's exactly the way you want it, isn't it?”  
  
He advanced towards the baron slowly and the elder backed away at the same pace.  
  
“You are not yourself, Daniel—“  
  
“ _Don't call me by my name!_ ”  
  
“Pardon?”

“Don't address me as though we're friends,” he spat. “You, who are not even human!”  
  
All blood seemed to drain from Alexander's face. He came to a halt, his back finally hitting the wall. He was breathing almost as rapidly as the brunette. “What did you say?” His voice was barely a whisper.  
  
Daniel, too, stopped in his tracks. His head felt like it was about to burst open, like something was trying to break out of his skull. The room swam in front of his eyes and he stumbled, only just managing to grasp the desk for support. The vase toppled over, spilling water everywhere.  
  
“Daniel?”  
  
Blood was pounding in his ears at the sound of Alexander's voice and he gnashed his teeth in fury. His eyes locked on the man – no, the demon, the impostor, whatever he was – and with an almighty roar he dashed towards him, fists raised. He heard Alexander yell something, saw him duck, and the first punch landed against the wall. Daniel heard something crack and his knuckles throbbed sickeningly, but he made to attack the elder again, only barely missing him this time.  
  
“I'm going to kill you!” he howled.  
  
“You've lost your mind!”  
  
Alexander scrambled to get out of the way as fast as his legs would carry him, but the brunette was faster. He caught the elder by the shoulders and forcefully pinned him against the wall.  
  
“What the hell are you?” the Englishman snarled. His hands were shaking worse than ever. “What the _bloody hell_ are you?”

“How do you—“  
  
“Shouldn't have left your study unlocked, now, should you?”

Alexander seemed paralysed with shock. Even in this dim light his amber eyes had a strange glow to them, their colour unnaturally bright. Daniel's grip on his shoulders tightened. Alexander attempted to push him off but the brunette only slammed him against the wall harder, drawing a yelp of pain from the elder as his head hit the wall. They struggled feebly, pushing against one another, when suddenly searing pain shot through Daniel's skull, momentarily blinding him. He yelled, letting go of the baron, and landed painfully on his knees on the floor.  
  
There was a sharp intake of breath and when Daniel looked up he saw Alexander almost doubled over, hands clutching his head as though in pain. They stared at each other, a look of mutual confusion passing between them.  
  
“What did you do?” Daniel breathed. His head was still throbbing; it was an effort to keep his gaze focused on the other man. He tried to get back on his feet but to no avail.  
  
“That was not me.” The baron was staring at him wide-eyed. “You said you've been to my study. Did you do something there?”  
  
“I found some of your old notes. And...” Daniel remembered the blinding light that had left his eyes watering. “And a cylindrical device of some kind. I… I heard your voice when I touched it. I heard it inside my head.”  
  
Alexander groaned. The Englishman reached out, grabbing the hem of Alexander's dressing gown with both hands.  
  
“Your voice in that device said that you're not human,” Daniel continued. There was now a slightly hysterical pitch to his voice, and he hated himself for it. “And I… I ran into one of your servants. Except it wasn't a servant. God almighty, I have _never_ seen something that terrible.”  
  
The baron was quiet. He made no attempt to move or reply; he was eyeing Daniel apprehensively, clearly expecting him to attack again. Daniel let go of his hem, hands falling on his lap.  
  
“Did I hurt you?” escaped the brunette's mouth before he could stop himself.  
  
Alexander gave him a weak smile, looking wearier than ever. “Is that not what you wanted, Daniel? Didn't you say you were going to kill me?”  
  
Daniel opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water, looking for words that just wouldn't come. The longer he looked at Alexander the more what was left of his anger diminished until there was nothing but a hollow feeling left in his chest.  
  
“Is it true? That you're not from this world?”  
  
“I think you already know the answer to that, Daniel.”  
  
“This is insane,” the brunette said, his voice trembling. “All of this. What the _hell_ is going on? What are you? What are those things that are posing as your servants?”  
  
“If I tell you, will you promise to calm down?”  
  
“If _you_ promise to tell me the truth.”  
  
The baron nodded slowly, looking him directly in the eye. “I suppose I have no choice.”  
  
He walked past Daniel and the brunette got up gingerly, unsure if his legs would carry him. He felt totally drained; the burst of anger seemed to have taken all his energy and all that was left was an awful, empty feeling in his chest. He watched Alexander approach the desk and gently pick up the flowers that had scattered there from the overturned vase. He gave them a careful shake to get rid of the water, and placed them next to the book that was still laying open there.  
  
Daniel stepped closer and his heart ached when the elder flinched at his approach. He gestured vaguely at the flowers. “What are they?”  
  
“A species of morning glory,” Alexander said. “Colloquially known as moonflowers. The blossoms close as soon as morning light touches them.”  
  
“How fitting,” Daniel said quietly.  
  
On the open spread there was a half-finished ink drawing of the blossoms. Daniel guessed this was what the baron had been working on; drops of water had landed on the drawing and the ink was smudged in places. Alexander sighed. He went to the bed and sat down on the edge, eyes firmly on the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this was supposed to be the last chapter but as it turns out Daniel wasn't quite done yet - he had a lot more to say than I'd anticipated. I almost felt bad for Alexander in this scenario, he must have been pretty freaked out. Angry Daniel is scary Daniel. :'D I look forward to bringing you all the finale of this story in the next chapter, and this time it IS the last one, I promise.
> 
> This chapter was supposed to be out on Friday already but convention season is starting for me and practical arrangements got in the way big time. The whole week's been a mess to tell you the truth (but it's getting better, no worries). The final chapter will be out in about a week, hopefully next weekend, so stay tuned. And thank you all so much for all the views, kudos and comments so far, your support is a huuuuge morale booster. <3 Let me know your thoughts about this chapter while waiting for the next one!


	6. Chapter 6

The silence between them was heavy and neither of them made an effort to break it. Alexander did not look at him; he appeared to be staring somewhere far away, his eyes unfocused. Daniel had expected he'd try to make a run for it but he just sat there and the minutes stretched on and on until it became too much.

“What on earth are you?” Daniel asked again when it became obvious that Alexander was not willing to be the first to speak up. The baron didn't respond immediately. He rubbed his temple wearily as though still nursing a headache, eyes downcast.  
  
“I doubt there is a word for it in any human tongue,” he said quietly. “Even I cannot say for sure what my kind are to yours – there are similarities between us, but we are not the same.”  
  
“That device of yours said that your people are different. Far ahead of us.”  
  
Alexander nodded absent-mindedly. “Your kind is more limited, I should say. There is less to you than there is to us.”  
  
“I see.” Daniel tried to focus. His thoughts were all over the place, mind bursting with questions to the point where he did not know where to even begin. “There is something else I'm wondering about, too.”  
  
“What is it?”  
  
“I found some old documents in the study, dated hundreds of years previously. Documents and notes regarding torture.” His thoughts were immediately drawn to the rituals and he felt it again, the sensation of someone else's pulse against his skin, of flesh giving little by little as the blade moved back and forth. Slick, wet, warm. Something stung in his gut and Daniel pushed the memory away. “Those were your notes, weren't they?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“And the dates are genuine?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
Daniel took a steadying breath. “How old are you exactly?”  
  
“Years lost their meaning to me a long time ago. I have been here for centuries.”  
  
Daniel didn't know what to say. He was fighting very hard to keep himself rooted on the spot, his rational thoughts trying to prevent the rising terror from taking over him. He had to keep his eyes on the baron; whenever he looked away the man's shadow seemed to waver strangely at the corner of his eye, almost as if trying to break loose of the man-shaped glamour he wore, but as soon as Daniel blinked the image was gone, and Alexander looked as pale and exhausted as ever.  
  
“You still haven't answered my question. What— no, who are you?”  
  
Alexander gave him a pained look. “A refugee who has been isolated in this world against his will. All I want is to go home, Daniel. Is that so wrong?”  
  
“I didn’t say— that’s not… You lied to me,” he blurted out. He could barely keep himself from shouting again. “You've been pretending to care about me all this time for whatever scheme of yours and—”  
  
“It's not pretend, Daniel. I _do_ care about you.”  
  
“You lie!”  
  
“I have lied to you about many things, I do not deny that. But please believe me when I say that my feelings are sincere. I do care about you, more than you probably realise.”  
  
“Then why all this secrecy? Why not just tell me everything?”

Alexander’s eyes betrayed an emotion Daniel had never seen in them; a moment later he realised it was fear.  
  
“I wasn't supposed to…” He trailed away, voice catching at his throat. Daniel could see his Adam’s apple bobble as he swallowed. “I wasn't supposed to fall in love with you.”  
  
“You’re lying again,” Daniel accused, but it came out sounding hesitant even to his own ears.  
  
Alexander leaned forward, partially hiding his face with his hands. He looked strangely diminished, like a man at death’s door, robbed of all colour. His hands were shaking visibly.  
  
“I wish it were a lie,” Alexander said weakly, voice obscured by his hands. “I wasn’t supposed to get attached to anything in this miserable world. I was only meant to return home.”  
  
Daniel could only stare at him. He didn’t want to believe a word of what he was saying, he _couldn’t_ possibly believe what he was saying… In his mind’s eye he remembered Alexander’s face after he’d kissed him the first time, the shock, the initial rejection, and he finally understood.  
  
“Alexander,” he said, stepping closer to him. The baron dropped his hands on his lap, still not looking at the younger man. He started when Daniel knelt in front of him suddenly.  
  
“Look at me,” Daniel said, his tone softer from before. Apprehensively, Alexander’s eyes met his. Daniel cupped his face with his hands and kissed him, drawing a startled noise from the older man. Alexander made no effort to pull away, however, and slowly, hesitantly, returned the kiss. Daniel had expected it to feel different now; harsher, sharper, perhaps with extra teeth in awkward places – whatever it was like to kiss something, someone, not human – but Alexander’s mouth was warm and soft just like before, a perfect fit against his own. Human.  
  
“Is this something your people do?” Daniel asked quietly. “Kissing?”  
  
The baron shook his head. “No. Our displays of affection aren’t perhaps as physical as yours.”  
  
“Is this uncomfortable to you, then?”  
  
He looked thoughtful. “I wouldn’t say that. Just different.”  
  
Daniel considered him in silence, conflicting emotions roiling in his head. He knew he ought to feel disgusted with the man – a part of him did feel just so, if he were to be perfectly honest with himself – but it was hard to consider him something horrid or alien when he looked just the same as before, his face very normal and very warm between his hands. Suddenly, he recalled faces much less human; faces that he'd seen hiding under the hoods of Alexander's servants, and he knew all else had to wait until he'd received some answers.  
  
“Your servants. What are they? Did you do that to them – make them like that?”  
  
Alexander closed his eyes and nodded. “You must realise I could not keep human servants, Daniel. I could not afford the risk of being found out.”  
  
“But what are they?”  
  
“The people in this area call them 'Gatherers', after old legends and hearsay. They are not alive in the true meaning of the word, but they do my bidding – at least well enough to enable me the rudimentary means of survival.”  
  
“Are they… _were_ they human?”  
  
There was a long silence.  
  
“Yes. Yes, they were.”  
  
Daniel swallowed. “I won't ask you how or why you made them. I don't think I want to know.”  
  
“That is probably for the best.”  
  
“What I do want to know, however,” he pressed on. “What was your real reason for helping me? Why did you summon me here? If you have gone to these lengths to guard your secret, I don't believe you replied to my letter simply out of kindness.”  
  
“I don't think—“  
  
“I don't want to hear any more lies, Alexander. Just tell me the truth.”  
  
The elder inhaled slowly, and when he spoke he sounded like it was costing him every effort to get the words out. “I reached out to you because of the Orb. It's my only means of returning home. I needed your help.”  
  
Daniel bit his lip. He had been preparing for this – he had known what the answer would be – but hearing the words spoken out loud was much worse than he'd anticipated.  
  
“So you were just using me to secure yourself a way home,” he said, his voice colourless. Alexander started as if hit.  
  
“Originally, that was my intention. I do not deny that.”  
  
“Originally?”  
  
He forced himself to look directly at Daniel. There was a look of such profound sadness in his eyes that whatever anger that had been building up inside Daniel seemed to die away instantly, leaving nothing but a strangled feeling in his throat.  
  
“All these centuries in this wretched world alone. Alone, without caring about anything or anyone,” Alexander said, his voice dropping into a whisper. He lifted a hand to touch Daniel's face. “Until now, at the very eve of my departure. And it had to be you out of all people.”  
  
When they kissed again there was newfound desperation to it. Daniel's hands wove into the baron's hair, holding him tight, and the elder trembled. Something like a muffled sob escaped his mouth between kisses, and when they broke apart Daniel was startled to find his amber eyes were quite wet.  
  
“Alexander?”  
  
“I'm sorry.” His voice was strained. “I am so sorry about everything.”  
  
“I'm not going to say 'it's alright', because it bloody well isn't. An apology doesn't quite cut it.”  
  
“Daniel—“  
  
“You lied about the rituals, too, didn't you? I know they serve some other purpose than warding off the Shadow.”  
  
The baron said nothing. He made to look away but Daniel held his face firmly between his hands, forcing him to meet his gaze.  
  
“Alexander,” Daniel continued, stressing each syllable. “We are not done yet.”  
  
“I think we ought to stop here—“  
  
“Just tell me the truth!”  
  
His voice shook with barely contained fury once again and Alexander flinched. He was eyeing the younger man with such obvious apprehension that Daniel wouldn't have been surprised had he tried to leave the room. Alexander swallowed, his face very white, but he made no effort to push him away.  
  
“Please understand that I wouldn't have put you through the rituals had it not been absolutely necessary. We had to buy more time—“  
  
“You're not answering my question.”  
  
The baron's hands trembled. “The rituals were for my sake. Mine. I cannot survive without the vitae we harvest.”  
  
Daniel stared at him. “What?”  
  
“I need the vitae to stay alive. That is how I've survived all these centuries.”  
  
The silence that followed was even longer than the one before. Slowly, Daniel let go of the baron. The room seemed to be swaying around him sickeningly, and though he tried to draw breath it felt as if some great weight was pushing down on him, forcing the air out of his lungs. He was suddenly aware of his breathing becoming more and more erratic, just like it had following the ritual a few days ago. He made to get up, a wave of panic flaring in his gut, but Alexander knelt down on the floor next to him and grabbed his hands. Daniel tried pushing him off but the baron's grip was firm, and as soon as their eyes met Daniel felt locked in place by his gaze, the amber eyes boring into his in a way that seemed to pierce all the way to his soul.  
  
“Daniel, listen to me,” he heard Alexander say. He saw his mouth move, form the words, but it was as though he was speaking directly to his brain, the words echoing in his mind. “Focus on my voice. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale again…”  
  
_We have done this before, Daniel. Inhale – exhale. Inhale – exhale._  
  
The baron's voice had a calming quality to it, and Daniel found himself almost reflexively following his instructions. The weight in his chest abated slowly with each word, the panic dying out, and when the attack was over he found Alexander's face inches from his. His arm was draped around him, hand rubbing his back in slow circles.  
  
“Are you alright?” the elder asked. His brow was creased with worry, lips slightly parted, the expression achingly familiar. When their eyes met again Daniel felt something inside of him break.  
  
He wanted to hate the baron; God knows he wanted to. Perhaps he even ought to have been afraid of him – that at least would have made sense. But being in his arms like this roused the same desire in him that he'd felt the night before, the same sense of security, and a thousand memories of Alexander by his side whenever he faltered seemed imprinted on his skin. His whispered encouragement and words of comfort had always come when he'd needed them the most; a hand guiding his when he couldn't find the way, pulling him into light when the night was too long and too dark. He was the only thing that made sense any more in a world that had dissolved into chaos.  
  
His only safe haven.  
  
Daniel bit his lip, but there was nothing he could do about the tears sliding down his cheeks. He grabbed the front of the baron's shirt and pulled him into a kiss, and Alexander didn't try to pull away. Daniel found himself pushed against the side of the bed, Alexander's arms wound around him almost protectively. Their kisses turned into a mess of tongues and teeth, and Daniel could taste salt in his mouth. They were soon out of breath the both of them and when they broke away Daniel cupped the elder's face again with shaking hands.  
  
“Take me with you, Alexander,” he whispered. “Wherever it is that you're going, I want to come with you.”  
  
The baron's eyes widened. “What?”  
  
“Take me with you. Can it be done?”  
  
“I… I don't know,” Alexander said hesitantly. “Perhaps. I have never attempted it, but in theory...”  
  
“Then let's try. I don't care what it takes, just don't leave me here to die.”  
  
“Daniel...”  
  
“Please,” he pleaded, hating himself for how desperate he sounded. “Don't leave me alone.”  
  
Daniel felt, just as he had felt when touching the device in the study, someone else's feelings mingling with his own. Fear. Uncertainty. An overwhelming need that correspondended with his and shook him to the very core with its intensity, and he saw his own desperation reflected in the baron's eyes. A shared, mutual sense of longing that had no words. And he heard Alexander's voice in his head, though his mouth did not move.  
  
_I cannot promise it will work.  
  
I know_ , Daniel replied, the thought forming automatically before he could stop himself. The elder started visibly.  
  
“How did you..?”  
  
Daniel blinked.  
  
“I don't know. After I touched that device of yours, I… I think it did something to my head. I've been seeing and hearing things that weren't there before ever since.”  
  
Alexander gaped at him, rendered speechless. A confusing jumble of noises – disconnected words, emotions – seemed to fill the brunette's head, sending out a twinge of pain, and he thought he'd felt this before. Hazy recollections of an eternity of deserts and impossible angles and spiralling towers reaching into the clouds came flooding back to him and Daniel winced, his eyes watering again. Alexander reacted instantly, pressing his palm on the younger man's forehead.  
  
“Forgive me, it has been a long time since I...” The elder paused, as if gathering himself. “Does it hurt?”  
  
Daniel smiled despite himself, hearing – and feeling – the concern in his voice, and he knew at once that it was genuine. The feeling was so intense that he thought it could have squeezed all air out of his lungs.  
  
“A little. My head feels strangely full, all of a sudden.”  
  
“It should pass once you get used to it.”  
  
“What even is it?”  
  
“I don't know if there are sufficient words to describe it in your language. We call it—” Alexander uttered a long, strange word that did not resemble any language Daniel had heard before and the baron's brows furrowed as he thought furiously, apparently at a loss. Finally, he shook his head. “I can scarcely pronounce it properly in this form. It's a means of non-verbal communication native to my kind. A mental link of sorts.”  
  
“How curious.”  
  
“But it's impossible. You should not be able to… Your kind isn't—“ Alexander paused again. The brunette had never seen his composure slip like this before.  
  
_Will it help? This_ _connection_ _?_ Daniel thought. _In bringing me with you to that other world?  
  
_ Alexander considered the thought. _  
  
Perhaps. I __want to_ _believe so.  
  
_ “Good enough for me,” Daniel answered. He thought back on the dream he'd had before – Alexander's voice comforting him in the falling darkness – and he wondered if it had been just his imagination, or if he'd actually visited his dream, sensing his distress. The question formed in his mind as soon as he'd considered the possibility and he looked at Alexander inquiringly. The baron nodded in answer.  
  
Wordlessly, Daniel closed what little distance remained between them and clambered onto Alexander's lap, claiming his lips once more. All of his senses yearned to feel him closer, be convinced that he was flesh and blood. Alexander's hands roamed over his thighs and up his back, crushing him against his chest so tightly that they could each feel every move the other made. There was a sense of urgency to Alexander's touches that hadn't been there the other night; a need that was almost primal, and Daniel felt it in each thought directed at him. He pushed against the older man and heard him moan softly into the kiss.  
  
Daniel's hands wandered down to his neck, slowly unlacing the collar of the elder's nightshirt. He was sore all over – he could feel it with every each little movement – and every coherent thought in his mind went back to their lovemaking, the feeling of skin on skin, and he no longer cared what Alexander was. The body pressed against his was warm and inviting and drove out all else in his mind. _I want you_ , Daniel thought, directing every recollection of the night before at the baron. _I want to make love to you again._  
  
“Daniel,” Alexander whispered against his mouth. Daniel silenced him with a rough kiss, tongue slipping inside his mouth, drawing another muffled moan from him. Alexander's hands made a quick work of his cravat, casting it aside before moving on to unbuttoning his collar.  
  
Alexander left a trail of hot kisses on his neck, taking specific care to visit each place that bore a bruise from the bites he'd left there earlier. Daniel tipped back his head, shivering when the elder's hands landed on his waist, but no wave of panic came this time, the anxious voices in his head quiet.  
  
And later, when he pushed Alexander face first in the pillows and stifled his moans against the nape of his neck, he only had room in his mind for how their bodies moved in unison, how perfectly they fit into each other. Alexander's thoughts had transformed into a confusing blur of incoherent sentences and Daniel felt his pleasure mingling with his own in a way that rendered him breathless. Seeing him like this, clawing at the sheets underneath him, pushing up to meet his every movement was like something out of a fever dream, but this was one dream he never wanted to wake up from.  
  
He bent lower to kiss the baron's neck again, fully savouring the feeling of their bodies pressed together like this. “Did you mean what you said earlier?” Daniel murmured in his ear, thrusting against him again and drawing a quiet moan from him. “That you love me?”  
  
Alexander gasped something in that strange language. Daniel didn't need to understand the words to know their meaning; the feelings that seeped into his mind were an answer enough. He slipped a hand beneath Alexander, taking him in his hand.  
  
“I love you, too,” he whispered. He could tell from the new pitch in Alexander's voice that he was close, and when he came by his hand Daniel pressed sloppy kisses on his neck until his breathing slowed down and he collapsed on the bed. Daniel pulled away and laid down next to him.  
  
After a while Alexander turned to face him and the younger man gathered him in his arms. Alexander ran his hand across his belly, coming to a halt right above his arousal. “May I?”  
  
“Please.”  
  
It took very little for Alexander to work him up to full hardness again. Daniel clung to him, fingers buried in his hair while the elder stroked him, paying close attention to every sound and movement he made. Alexander watched him the whole time, expression soft with affection.  
  
“A little faster,” Daniel breathed. Teeth dug into his lower lip as the baron heeded his advice, and Daniel thrust into his hand automatically. “Yes! Just like that—“  
  
Alexander kissed his brow. “Come for me, love. I want to hear you.”  
  
Daniel came with a strangled cry, spilling all over the sheets. He thought of nothing, nothing at all, a blissful numbness spreading into his limbs, and Alexander gently prised his fingers off his hair and pulled the duvet over them.  
  
They lay in silence for several long moments, the silence broken only by the chiming of a grandfather clock down the hall.  
  
“Three in the morning,” Alexander said quietly. The brunette made a noncommittal noise. It felt a lifetime ago when he'd woken up at the foot of the stairs and wandered into Alexander's study. He reached out a hand to the baron's face and traced his features with a finger, as though attempting to memorise them. Daniel ran his finger over the sharp edge of his cheekbone. The elder smiled.  
  
“What is it?”  
  
Daniel looked thoughtful. “Everything about you looks so human. Except the eyes – I doubt I've ever seen another person with that colour. And I could swear I thought, just once or twice, that they glowed in the dark.”  
  
“Sometimes I forget myself,” Alexander admitted, sighing. “I have been alone for a very long time. One grows careless in the absence of company.”  
  
That gave Daniel a pause. So it hadn't been a figment of his imagination, after all.  
  
“That's why I was hesitant to stay the night with you last night,” the baron continued. “What if I accidentally revealed myself to you?”  
  
“So did you sleep at all last night?”  
  
Alexander shook his head. The Englishman snorted before he could stop himself.  
  
“Oh, for heaven's sake,” he said, laughing. “No wonder you were awake each time I woke up!”  
  
The baron sighed again. Daniel shifted closer to him and very purposedly laid his head on the same pillow as Alexander and draped an arm around him, pulling him close possessively.  
  
“You certainly feel human, too,” Daniel said. He kissed a bruise on Alexander's neck rather more roughly than was necessary, drawing a startled noise from him. “Every inch of you, if you know what I mean.”  
  
“You don't need to draw me a picture.”  
  
“Do your people do this? Make love?”  
  
“No, not really.”  
  
Daniel pushed against him, luxuriating in his warmth. “Can we keep doing it, though? I quite like it.”  
  
“I can tell. And yes, I daresay we can.”  
  
“And, uh, about earlier,” Daniel said, hesitating. “I'm sorry for trying to hurt you earlier. Did I scare you?”  
  
“Oh, not at all. You show up at my door in the middle of the night looking half-mad, start screaming profanities and say that you want to kill me.” Alexander's voice was practically dripping with sarcasm. “Yes, you might have given me a scare.”  
  
Daniel flushed. It sounded significantly worse when put into words. “I hope you can forgive me. I was quite upset.”  
  
“Understandable, given the circumstances.”  
  
“I meant what I said, though. I can't… I'm not ready to forgive you. Not just yet.”  
  
The baron sighed. “I suppose I deserve that.”  
  
Slowly, slowly the night broke into a tentative dawn, just another sleepless night in a long succession of sleepless nights. Daniel watched with alert eyes how the sun crept above the horizon, stars driven into hiding, and watery sunlight crept into the room. There was a strange thrill to it, as though some arduous battle was coming to a close. Alexander stirred next to him, and for a moment they simply looked at one another, a look of mutual understanding passing between them.  
  
_You know what I need you to do if you are to come with me. I can't do this alone,_ Alexander said.  
  
Daniel returned his gaze calmly. _I know. I'll help you in any way that I can.  
  
_ The baron leaned closer, kissing him softly. _You are not alone, either. We'll do this. Together.  
  
Together._  
  
Daniel could certainly feel it stirring within himself, the twinge of nerves, anxiety, but his mind was miraculously quiet in the middle of it all. He supposed he should have been afraid; a part of him dreaded to think how much more suffering would take place before they were finished. The winding path that stretched in front of him had never looked darker, and not even Alexander could guarantee where it would lead this time. But there was at least something definite now in the foreseeable future, a conclusion, a purpose; and he knew that he would see it through to whatever end.

His thoughts went briefly back to the night in the greenhouse and a sense of clarity washed over him. Perhaps he'd take it as a sign and trust that Alexander was right; that there were some things that could only grow in the dark, in the gaps between safety and the unknown.

“We should get up, Daniel. There is much to do.”  
  
Daniel nodded, slowly pushing himself up. He grimaced, his elbow protesting, and he suddenly had a vivid memory of waking up on the cold floor.  
  
“What is it?”  
  
“I may have fallen down the stairs last night,” Daniel mumbled, not meeting his eye.  
  
Alexander stared at him. “Excuse me?”  
  
“Please stop looking at me like that.”  
  
“You fell down the stairs.”  
  
“I was sleep-walking, alright?”  
  
Alexander sighed once more but offered no further comments.  
  
They dressed in silence. Daniel could feel the familiar tremour returning to his hands and just for that moment he decided to acknowledge it; he would be afraid again, and there would be more nights when the rituals would bleed through to his dreams. It was far from over. When he closed his eyes he could recall the feeling of blood running down his arms again, but the worst of the fear was gone, its place taken by iron resolve. He would walk the path to hell and back as many times as it took. Sometimes braving the darkness was the only way forward.

And no matter how dark the night, a dawn would always come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it comes to an end. Even though I am not a fan of sad endings, this is such a bleak story that promising a perfect happy ending would have been beyond impossible. I want to believe they'll make it, though at what cost, who can really say.
> 
> I've been curious about Alexander's memory cylinders in the game for a while now and I've been tossing around the idea that Daniel touching them is what enables the mental connection between him and Alexander. The telepathic connection seems to be something Alexander did not plan on and as it only starts happening after you've found the first cylinders, it caught my attention. I decided to approach that theory in this fic.
> 
> Also~! It's been a while since I wrote a love scene like that and it ended up becoming rather personal. *coughs into microphone* I enjoyed writing it, though, so perhaps I'll be braver with love scenes from now on.
> 
> I want to thank all of you for your support, for all the comments and kudos, and even the silent readers who haven't interacted but are still out there: I appreciate all of you, you guys make writing and sharing these stories worth it. <333 It's a small fandom and while there aren't that many of us active these days, I love that so many of you still take the time to comment and show your appreciation, show that you are there, somewhere, and that this pairing still has its fans. Here's a little something to all of you because you're all sweethearts. *blows kiss*
> 
> As usual, let me know what you thought about this final chapter! I'll see you guys next month as I start another long Amnesia fic, one that I've been looking forward to publishing for a very long time. Here's hoping you guys will be joining me on that journey. ;) Adios, and see you very soon!

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my, I'm finally back with a multichapter fic! This one's gonna be a bit shorter - I estimate 4 chapters, maybe 5 - but we'll see where exactly we end up. This chapter is pretty dark but more romantic things will follow soon, trust me. Next chapter will be out in about two weeks' time!
> 
> Personal notes: Writing this fic has been therapeutic for me. As some of you know, I suffer from severe anxiety, and a major part of it is my extreme phobia of blood and the human body. I find almost everything about human anatomy disgusting (particularly inner organs), simply put, but describing this obscure fear has always been difficult for me as doctors tend to dismiss it as unnatural and silly. What Daniel is going through here is very much what this phobia feels like to me, and writing it has been cathartic. It helps. It's a phobia that doesn't seem to have a proper name - I guess it's very rare - so putting it into words feels necessary, to remind myself that it's very real.


End file.
